Escape Plan
by Frank Featherstiff
Summary: Santana schemes and creates enough ships to form a fleet, but will it be enough to get all of the Gleeks out of Lima? Kurt/Puck SLASH Warning. Rated M.
1. Sex, Lies and Santana

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen.**

**Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

**Chapter One: ****Sex, Lies and Santana**

* * *

Santana Lopez was a bitch.

It wasn't really a fact that that troubled the Latina any. After all, being selfish meant the she got just what she wanted. Except for now though.

Santana Lopez, as well as being a bitch, had always been a loner. Even surrounded by other Cheerios and exerting her will on the group consciousness the Latina was never fully committed to anything. Santana had always been completely focused on what she could _get_ from others and had never fully opened up to anyone. Opening up led to getting hurt.

Santana Lopez was a loner -

_'An alone loner...'_

The first inklings Santana got of all not being quite right with the world, was when she found that after her breakup with Brittany – that instead of the blonde pining for her and begging her to take her back as she had herself wanted – Brittany had instead started dating Artie.

_'Seriously – did the girl have a secret polyester fetish or something?'_

Santana Lopez was lonely – and Santana Lopez did not like lonely.

What she wanted now for her life for the first time, included _other_ people, and that had her thinking.

The Latina lay sprawled out on her bed wearing nothing more than an old pair of boy shorts – stolen from Puck and an old tee shirt – stolen from Brittany. Santana scoffed at the realisation that her entire wardrobe for that evening had actually been pilfered from previous sexual partners.

Santana stared at the ceiling as her eyes traced the cracks in the plaster – she would have to get her Dad to get a decorator – having less than perfect décor just wasn't acceptable.

The Latina had always had a plan for her life. What she had wanted more than anything, was to make damn sure that she got out of this hellhole of a town and didn't end up a Lima loser.

Being alone for just a short while however had served as a timely reminder to the Latina of the knife-edge she was walking.

And it scared her.

Santana Lopez didn't like being scared.

Glancing at the clock on the shelf to her left, Santana saw that it wasn't quite late enough to go to sleep – if she tried the Latina knew that she'd just end up lying in the dark staring at the shadows for hours. She could always sext Puck but since the half-back had come back from Juvie he'd shown _zero_ interest in getting back with her. Sure – Santana still made out that they were fucking like bunnies – but that was just for show. In truth, Santana hadn't had any for weeks now and it was starting to grate on her nerves.

No sexting Puck would only make things worse – what she needed was something to put her to sleep. If she could sleep then it would be tomorrow sooner – and tomorrow held the promise of being better than today.

_'A bath... that will make me sleepy...'_

Gracefully swinging herself round and planting her feet on the floor, enjoying the feeling of the deep pile carpet as it caressed her feet, the Cheerio padded across her bedroom to the en-suite master bath. Her bedroom was actually _the_ Master bedroom for the house – being a spoiled only child had it's advantages after all – especially when it came time to decide who got what bedroom.

Her parents were well enough off with their own room in the West Wing of the house.

When Santana said West Wing, she meant West Wing. Alejandro Lopez, Santana's Dad was a Doctor – a real Doctor that is, not one of those tooth doctors like Miss Pilsbury's sexiest-dentist-to-ever-live.

_'Hey, I wonder if he'd be interested in filling some of my cavities...'_

Alejandro Lopez was a very successful Doctor – Santana had no idea what her Dad was successful at other than at bringing in high paying clients and milking them for every red cent they had. As a result Santana, her Mom and her Dad all lived in a veritable palatial mansion on the outskirts of Lima just a stones throw from the Country Club.

It was an opulent setting, one that Santana was used to, however with only the three of them – plus Jennings, their butler – rattling around the place, the Lopez residence had more of a museum feel to it than of a family home.

Throwing on the overhead spotlights, Santana crossed to the bank of mirrors, enjoying as she always did, the contrast between the cream coloured tiles and her rich mocha coloured skin. It had been one of the things Brit had liked about their being together too – the hours the blonde had spent just lying in bed with the Latina and staring at the contrast between their skin tones had been some of the most peaceful moments of Santana's life.

_'And now she's with Artie and I'm all alone...'_

The Latina amused herself as she set up, with thoughts of being serviced by Miss Pilsbury's dentist. In truth, she forgot his name, it was Chris or Karl or something but then his name wasn't wasn't important, just his ass in those leather pants he'd worn during the Rocky Horror project the Glee club had performed recently.

Santana squatted as she dug around in the cabinet beneath the sink. Retrieving her favourite scented candles, she set them out on the counter, before striking a match and lighting them.

Inhaling deeply of the resulting smoke Santana could already feel her tense muscles beginning to relax. Now all she needed was a long hot -

_'Cock...'_

– soak – the Latina corrected herself forcefully.

Bending over, she turned the tap on the bathtub until small clouds of steam begin filling the room. Picking up the small ceramic container sitting in pride of place on the shelf above the sink, Santana lifted off the lid, inhaled and smiled.

Her great-aunt had sent her the little dish from one of her many trips around the world. Dead Sea Salts were a particular favourite of the Latina and she swore by their relaxing properties.

_'So did Brit-...'_

Santana clamped down viciously on her train of thought. Now was not the time to get emotional – she could get emotional after she was dead.

Santana's Great-Aunt had done what the Latina herself wanted to do. She had escaped the family and the expectations and run far away to live a nomadic existence, never staying in one place too long, experiencing life to the full. It was something Santana could relate to – she didn't want to end up stuck in this hick town either.

Reaching inside the little container, Santana picked up the small wooden scoop and added a small pinch of the sea salts to her bath water. Bending at the waist and slipping her panties down her legs and kicking them off to the side – Martha their housekeeper would pick them up in the morning – Santana straightened before she grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it up and over her hair.

Appraising her naked body in the mirror, Santana was pleased with what she saw. Firm toned breasts, no more than a handful each, topped with dusky pink nipples that contrasted perfectly with her skin; a flat stomach leading down to her long supple legs – which the Latina could place behind her ears without breaking sweat.

_'How could nobody want this?'_

The question was asked of herself, half in actual disbelief and half in mourning – for nobody had wanted Santana in far too long.

Santana switched off the faucet and slipped into the slightly too hot water hissing slightly. She liked making her bath a little too hot at first knowing that it would therefore last longer before the water went cold. The Latina took a moment to admire how the water changed the shades in her skin before she leaned back against the bath pillow and let her mind wander.

Santana was certainly smart enough to get out of Lima, of that there was no doubt. With the possible exception of her third period pre-cal class where that frigid bitch Mrs Isaacs just _hated_ her, the Latina had been getting all 'A's in the recent past. If she'd been able to make up the quizzes she had been forced to miss because of Cheerios practice, she'd have probably had an 'A' for pre-cal too.

It was worth it however – Coach Sue Sylvester was a guarantee that Cheerleading itself was a ticket into any college the Latina could have wanted. But Santana was well aware that all it would take would be for her to pick up one niggling injury – land awkwardly just _once_ and twist a knee for that dream to be completely obliterated.

No, it was better to have multiple options. Multiple options meant multiple routes of escape.

Shifting lower in the water, Santana used her toe to start the hot water dripping into the tub. The water gurgled as it hit the overflow drain, and the liquid began to slosh over the edge of the tub. Santana was oblivious however as she had already moved on to thinking about other things.

Other things such as Glee.

While Santana accepted that she might not have been the driving force behind the Glee club bandwagon – she couldn't deny that she actually enjoyed the club and would hate to give it up.

She may be a bitch, but the kids in Glee had her back on more than one occasion and she was grateful for that.

And that was the dilemma Santana found herself facing.

She may indeed prove successful in being able to get out of Lima, but once she was gone those few people who were in her corner now would be left behind. Santana didn't like the thought that there would be no one in her corner any more.

Coach Sylvester wouldn't care, and the Glee kids would all have moved on to their own lives. There was just no way in Hell that Santana was going to let that happen. More than anything, Santana wanted these kids, these outcast, looked down on and downtrodden kids from Glee to be her friends. And not just for now, but for life. If there was one thing that Santana Lopez knew without doubt – it was that Santana Lopez _always_ got what she wanted.

High school romances were always doomed to fail once they got to the real world because they had never really been tested. That could be fixed though. Santana realised that with a little intervention, she could be the one testing them. And then once she was able to get everyone back together again – the way they were supposed to be – they would be set. After all, if a romance lasts forever then the person that made it all happen would be best friends with them for life.

Santana sat up and reached over to her loofah as she began to sluice her skin removing the top layer of skin as she made a mental checklist of what she'd have to do.

Firstly, she wanted Brit back. Of that she was clear. That she thought would be pretty straightforward. If Santana engineered events properly she could get Artie away from _her_ girl and back fixated on Tina – after all the wheelchair-bound boy and the Asian girl were a cute couple.

Of course, destroying Mike and Tina's relationship would leave Mike single and available – which was perfect because Santana could then pair him up with Mercedes. It might sound a little unconventional at first, but Mercedes fiery passion would be balanced by Mike's coolness under pressure. Plus, Santana was sure that Mercedes had an appreciation for a killer set of abs.

Sam and Quinn worked already as a couple and so did Finn and Rachel, so Santana decided that she could leave them be. If worst came to worse, she could engineer Sam with Rachel and Finn with Quinn – the only one the Latina could see losing out in that slightly would be Sam -

_'Sacrifices must be made...'_

Santana cackled as she lathered herself up and rinsed.

Having paired up the rest of the gleeks, Santana realised that there were only two 'real' gleeks left – nobody counted that bigfoot in drag that Puck had brought to Sectionals - Puck and Kurt.

Of course, Kurt being newly ensconce at Dalton Academy and hot for his new 'gal-pal' – Bane or Betty or whatever – again, names aren't important – was an issue true. Santana however was confident in her abilities. If she worked it right, she could get Kurt back at McKinley and from there it would be a piece of cake.

_'Oooh... cake...'_

Santana reached over and pulled the plug from the bath, laying back and enjoying the tickling sensation against her skin as the water drained away from around her.

Finally, the Latina focused on the final participant of her little relationship-o-rama – Puck.

If anything, convincing Puck to go along with her plan would probably be the easiest part – after all the half-back had never exactly been fussy about where, or with who he found release.

Puckzilla got hard for any warm mouth; his whole trip to the dark side with bigfoot the other day was evidence enough of that. The Latina shuddered at the thought before shaking it off.

It would be simple really, a few carefully chosen words here, a suggestion there and bam – Puck would see just how much better it could be for him batting for the other team.

Of course, were anyone to learn of her manipulations then the entire house of cards would come crashing down – but then she was Santana Lopez – and Santana Lopez didn't get caught.

_'Well except that one time...'_

Chuckling again as she recalled being caught in the showers at school with Brit by Coach Tanaka, the Latina raised herself out of the tub. Reaching over to the rack by the tub, Santana quickly wrapped herself up in an Egyptian cotton towel and padded back through to her bedroom.

Getting herself ready for bed, the Latina began to plot.

* * *

It was lunch the next day before Santana could begin to put her plan into action. Stalking into the cafeteria as if she owned the place, the Latina basked in the numerous appreciative glances from various jocks – and ewww, Santana cringed – teachers on her way to the Glee table.

Quinn, Tina, Brit –

_'Don't focus on how hot she looks right now...'_

God it hurt.

Fixing a superior expression back onto her face, in order to replace the one of sorrow at seeing Brittany, Santana tried to set aside the growing sense of despair that was threatening to overwhelm her.

_'I refuse to be alone...'_

Quinn, Tina, Brittany, Mike, Rachel, and Mercedes were already seated around the table, each digging in to their chosen selection from the day's lunch menu.

With a flip of her hair the Latina glared down at Mike who was in her spot at what had quickly become the 'Glee Girls' table. Santana had vociferously fought against Berry's attempts to shorten the name to 'Gleerls' – I mean the Latina was taking enough flak as it was for being in the club – no point in making it even worse.

"Move it Asian. No pussy, no seaty..."

Ignoring the various rolled eyes and looks of disgust sent her way, Santana held her ground and stared pointedly at the squirming Mike who was being pinned in place by an equally fierce glare from Tina.

Finally – after several tense seconds of deadlock – the Asian boy capitulated to Santana, giving Tina a kiss on the head and an apologetic whisper as he left.

"What do you want Santana?...", Rachel spat as Santana gracefully slipped into her seat just milliseconds after Mike had gone, "... Gonna steal 'cedes tots now too?"

"Bitch'll have a fight on her hands if she tries...", warned Mercedes, slinging a protective arm around the mound of potatoey goodness piled high on her plate.

The group all chuckled as Tina play acted trying to steal a tot from Mercedes plate and the black girl growled back at Tina in mock-warning.

Ignoring the byplay as it didn't concern her Santana pressed on with her scheme.

"Chillax Aretha – I have a figure to maintain so tots are so totally not on my menu. I'm here about Kurt."

Santana rolled her eyes at the looks of suspicion and disbelief from the other girls at the table – all but Brittany who was smiling blankly as per usual.

"What?...", asked the Latina feigning defensiveness, "... Am I the _only_ person who thinks it sucks that Kurt isn't here?"

"Yeah right...," Mercedes said turning back to her tray of tots. "...why would you even care?"

Even to someone as self-obsessed as Santana Lopez, it was obvious that the loss of her BFF had taken its toll on Mercedes. It was probably why the girl was stuffing her face with a pound of tots at lunchtime on a Tuesday – if Santana actually gave a crap, she'd have thought it was a cry for help.

"Because he is one of us...", Santana said letting her eyes drift down to examine the Formica top to the lunch room table.

Santana was well aware that she had to be careful. If she was too emotional and appeared to care too much – because lets face it she didn't really – then she risked someone calling her out on it. However, if she played it too cool then the Latina would risk losing the interest of the other girls at the table.

It was a delicate balance to maintain but then she _was_ Santana Lopez. For a woman of her undeniable talents, it'd be like perching atop a human pyramid – a piece of cake.

_'Focus Sanny...'_

Santana flinched at the voice in her head reminding her to keep up her act – why the voice had to have Brittany's voice the Latina would ponder later.

"Besides, even when Kurt is pissed at me he's pissed at _me _and not just at the school bicycle."

Santana kept her head down, so that the other girls wouldn't be able to see the beginnings of the smile of triumph on her face.

_'It had never been in doubt...'_

Let the others think that she had a problem with the reputation she had earned. Not that she did though – Santana had worked hard on that reputation – and was damn proud of it.

However, it would just make things easier in the long run to play the victim on this occasion.

"So," Santana asked looking up and meeting the curious eyes of the group, "... are we going to fight to get Kurt back or not?"

Asking the question was a moot point as far as Santana was concerned. She already knew the answer – the seed had been planted – and all the Latina had to do was let it blossom.

"He isn't safe here…" Rachel argued.

Santana rolled her eyes – of course Rachel would try to apply her own particular brand of logic to proceedings – Kurt's safety wasn't why the Latina was doing this. Of course everyone else didn't know that.

Even so, it wouldn't do to let the group think too deeply about that problem. Too long with time to think would lead to the _outside_ chance that one of them would have an original thought. And original thoughts were a danger to 'the plan'.

"Then we make it safe...", insisted Santana, letting out a little faux-anger and slapping her open palm down on the table top. Mercedes growled as her mountain of tots began to crumble as a result of the vibration but Santana paid the black girl no mind.

"The teenage boys at the school are the ones causing problems for Kurt. But it's we who have what _they_ want. Keep it from them and they will be carrying Kurt around in a Sedan Chair to get it back..."

The Latina waited for the expected explosion of agreement with her plan and was shocked when instead of the whoops and cheers she had predicted, there was nothing.

No reaction whatsoever.

Except for God damn blank looks – Santana was starting to think her plan to keep these idiots as friends wasn't perhaps her finest moment.

_'Still... needs must...'_

"Uh – what do we have again?" asked Tina whilst the rest of the girls all nodded in concert.

Thankfully clarification came from the one source that Santana hadn't expected and from the once voice in the group with the power to cause her heart to clench.

"Our sweet lovin'..." squealed Brittany, glancing over to Artie sitting at the table opposite.

"Exactly!..." said Santana as her eyes somehow managed to light up at the same instant that her heart was ripped from her chest, "...the girls of McKinley High have to go on sex strike."

Santana paused for a moment to enjoy the looks of stupefaction on the faces of the other girls – well all except for Brittany who was grinning widely at having been proven right. For a moment the Latina felt like she was back during the good old days where praising Brittany made the girl smile and made every other shitty thing about life just fade away.

Reaching into her bag, Santana pulled out a handful of rainbow colored ribbons which she distributed to the girls one by one.

"The plan is, we all wear them and the boys get no sweet something something til it's safe to reintroduce Hummels to the wild. Even the boys who never get any, like that ape Karofsky, will be pressured into falling into line by everyone else."

"But why would people do this for the Glee club? People hate us" asked Tina again providing the voice of reason and trying to rain on Santana's parade.

_'God... I should never think that phrase again... too many Berry/Streisand flashbacks... not pleasant...'_

Santana made a mental note to watch Tina in future; vampire princess Asian may be just a little bit too smart for her own good.

"They won't..." said Santana simply and shrugging off the Asian girl's comments as if they were immaterial.

"But then how...", butted in Rachel, causing Santana to roll her eyes and hold up a hand – the diva didn't look pleased to be so effectively shushed but then what did the Latina care?

"As I was saying, they won't do it for the Glee club _but_ they will do it for the Cheerios. It's quite simple really, with Kurt last year at Nationals we won and Cheerios always do whatever it takes to win. Even if that means switching to a cock-free diet."

Santana paused seeing that her passion was bleeding through too much and that a couple of the members of the group; specifically Quinn and Mercedes were beginning to look wary. It was time to allay their fears,

"Plus, if Quinn calls the Captains of the other Cheerleading squads in town, we can get them to join us in shunning the McKinley High boys, if the three of us..." Santana pointed at the Cheerios at the table, "... promise them each a 10-minute clinic."

Rachel again opened her mouth to speak – no doubt with some self-important utterance – but Santana held up her hand once again and smirked as the brunette diva snapped her mouth shut and crossed her arms with a huff.

"I know most of you are not putting out – though as I've said before you should be, if only so we win at Football – but we need to flood their eyes with this ribbon. Wherever they see the ribbon they'll see a big no-entry sign – and it only works if we _all_ take part."

Santana was aware of the silently fuming Rachel and decided to throw the girl a bone before her head exploded – after all what the Latina had said was true – she _did_ need everyone on board for the plan to work. Raising a single eyebrow at the diva, Santana gave Rachel the permission to speak she had denied her earlier.

Unhinging her jaw like a snake about to swallow a watermelon, Rachel took in a huge gulp of air before going off on one of her customary self-righteous rants.

"What I was going to say, before I was so rudely cut off at the knees...", Rachel glared at Santana who simply stared back completely nonplussed by the girl's open hostility, "...was that I, for one, am in.

Santana couldn't prevent the look of shock that crossed her face – the Latina had thought that Berry as one of the 'prudes' amongst the Glee girls would be more likely to oppose the plan. Santana quickly slipped her mask of superiority back on as Rachel was _still _talking.

_'No surprise there then...'_

"...as Glee club Captain -..."

"Self-appointed Captain...", reminded Mercedes as Rachel continued talking over the top of the black girl as if she hadn't spoken.

"... it is a sad state of affairs when Santana is the person fighting for club cohesion."

"Whatever," said Santana rolling her eyes and reasserting her control over the group, "... from here on out there is to be no lovin'. No kissing. No holding hands and _definitely_ no putting out."

Fastening her ribbon around her wrist ensuring that it was clearly visible, Santana watched with satisfaction as the rest of the girls all followed suit.

"Brit and Quinn, get the word out to the girls of Lima. Tina and Mercedes, my parents are out of town this weekend. I need you to put together a Glee blowout party at my house, and I need you to get all of the club's measurements – guys _and_ girls – to me at least the day before that. You should be able to swipe them form our Sectionals costumes. Berry – ..."

Santana paused seeing the mutinous expression on Rachel's face and sighed – time to throw the bitch another bone...

"Rachel – I need you to choose the perfect songs for these pairs to sing...", said Santana withdrawing a sheaf of paper from her bag and handing it over to the girl, "... I know you will have mixed and matched everyone in the club already. Also, I need you to plan a number to make Kurt feel like he is one of us still when he shows up to the party. Something showy, you think you can handle that?"

"You listened to me Santana?" Rachel asked genuinely shocked that the Latina had actually paid attention to a single word she'd said.

"When you say something that helps, I listen. When you say something that is so stupid or annoying that I daydream about cutting off all of your hair and feeding it to you til you choke – not so much."

Santana ignored the sniggering from Tina and Mercedes at Rachel's sour expression, in favor of rounding off her speech – the Latina was so close she could literally taste victory.

"Well ladies, Operation Hummel-Homecoming is a go."

Standing up, she walked over to the table where the Glee boys were congregated and slid into a spare seat between Sam and Finn. Grabbing Puck's cell out of the boy's hands, Santana ignored the half-back's protest and began scrolling through the menus. She didn't bother looking at the boys as she addressed them as she sensed the other girls flanking her,

"_We_ are getting Kurt back and if any of you give the girls a hard time about our methods, I will personally feed you your own balls through a sieve. Are we clear?"

None of the boys objected verbally and Santana heard the intake of breath and muttered cursing that signaled their capitulation.

"Its all your fault really after all. You all _failed_ to keep Kurt safe and so now we girls are going to have to do it for you. Finn, I need you to get me the highlight footage from all of the team's games last year."

"That won't be a lot of highlights – we only won once...", said Finn with no small amount of bitterness.

Finishing her text and clearing the memory, Santana slid the phone back across the table to Puck, while holding up a hand in Finn's face.

"I did not ask for your opinion Frankenteen," when Finn did not immediately get up to leave, Santana gestured with a little shooing motion, "... go Frankenteen, vamoose, flee, escape... begone!"

While Finn hurriedly got to his feet and made a beeline for the first member of the AV Club he could find, Santana withdrew a nail file and began to sort out her cuticles.

_'I need to get to the manicurist...'_

"What the Hell did you do to my phone?" asked Puck as he scrolled through all of the settings but could find nothing wrong.

Santana glared at the jock for daring to speak to her in that tone of voice as she replied,

"I was sexting myself since you seemed to leave your balls back in Juvie and become so lame at it lately. Don't worry though, I made sure to tell myself that we were over."

Not waiting for a response, Santana pushed back her chair, causing Rachel to have to dive out of the way or be squished. Glaring at each of the boys in turn, the Latina spun on the spot so that her skirt would give the boys a little show before she marched off.

Confused to a man, the boys all stared at each other before looking up at the remaining Glee girls – none of whom looked particularly pleased to see them.

"What's going on?" Sam asked Quinn quietly as the girlfriends at the table all pulled away from their respective men without explanation.

"Sorry babe...", Quinn said shrugging off Sam's attempt to hold her hand, "... the girls are going on an affection strike until the boys in this school fall in line to make this place safe for Kurt."

"Who declared cockblock-ageddon?" Puck asked as the horror of the situation settle into the minds of the men.

The girls simply shook their head before they walked away.

* * *

**A/N:**** Thanks for reading. I will try to get this out at least bi-weekly.**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW HOW I'M GETTING ON.**


	2. Santana Lopez: Source of All Evil

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen.**

** Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

** Chapter Two: ****Santana Lopez: Source of All Evil**

* * *

"_... is that the Russian or the Prussian..."_

Sitting in the back of the classroom in front of the wall of French doors, Kurt tried desperately to follow what the teacher was saying. Judging from the widespread nodding from the other students and furious scribbling into their hardback notebooks, the knowledge being imparted was of serious value.

Kurt sighed and set his pen down, being careful not to damage the fuzzy troll perched on the end. The troll, childish as it was, had been a gift from Mercedes after the soprano had announced his decision to switch school – designed, he was told, to keep him from getting all stuffy and British – Kurt's lip twitched at the thought of him becoming British.

_'British accents are sexy though... much better than stupid Russian...'_

Tuning back into the lecture, Kurt realised with a growing sense of resignation, that his daydream had left him completely cut adrift. The soprano's heart sank as he realised he now had no idea where the arrows and half-illegible words scrawled across half the chalk board had come from or what meaning they held in terms of the text.

_'What in the Sam Hill does that mean?...'_

As if struggling to keep his head above water in his classes wasn't bad enough, Kurt had to contend with living in close confines with three hundred other teenage boys – temptation literally being around every corner – but not only that, the teachers were hot too!

_'It's so unfair...'_

Kurt hadn't had time yet, to learn all of the teacher's names, but in his head he liked to call this particular one Dr. Dimples. Kurt realised he was probably staring at the teacher's impressive jawline like some lovestruck puppy, but frankly the way things were going, getting a free period to stare at Dr. Dimples was about all the soprano got out of the class; other than a sense of complete bemusement at what was going on of course.

Glancing at his watch and seeing that the class period was quickly running out, Kurt tried to turn his attention back to the lecture and scrambled to take notes. At the very least if the brunette got down most of the names and phrases he could spend yet another evening combing Wikipedia for a mediocre understanding of what was going on in his classes.

At McKinley, Kurt had been used to being one of the best students in school – a straight 'A' kid – however since switching to Dalton, the soprano had found himself struggling just to be average.

And being average rankled with Kurt. Kurt Hummel was not destined for mediocrity.

Kurt was still hastily scribbling down names and dates, using whatever letters and numbers he could make out from Dr. Dimple's chicken-scratch scrawl, when said teacher dismissed the class wishing them all a productive evening.

Several minutes later, with the rest of the students having already broken for the evening and disappeared either to their dorms or to the Library, Kurt finished copying down what he could make out on the board, stupid Russian names, quickly gathered his books and started to head for the door himself. Now that class was over, the time had come for the brunette's laptop WiFi access to get pounded in order to figure out what the Hell his classes that day had been about.

Plus Kurt needed the solace of his iTunes library - the soprano was in serious need of some de-stressing,

_'I need my Gaga...'_

Kurt's hand was on the door handle when he was shaken from his internal musings.

"Master Hummel...", Kurt stomach dropped at the melodious sound of Dr. Dimples' voice and turned back to face the man who was seated at his desk in the corner of the room, "... May I please have a moment of you time?"

Kurt gulped and tried manfully to ignore the impulse to ogle the teacher as he sat ramrod straight behind his large mahogany desk. The brunette could clearly see the definition of the muscles on the man's chest through the think fabric of his summer shirt.

_'This can't be anything good...'_

"Yes Sir...", murmured Kurt softly before doing an about turn and shuffling back into the class. Readjusting his book bag which was now biting into his shoulder, Kurt came to a stop in front of the teacher's desk and averted his eyes.

If it had been McKinley High and the teacher had asked him to stay behind after class, Kurt would have been excited – well except if it was Mr Karlsson the schools _other_ paedophile teacher – _then _in all likelihood Kurt would have been praying for a fire alarm or a meteor strike or something to give him the excuse to flee in terror.

At McKinley though, if it had been someone like Mr. Schue, who despite being a little too obsessed with 'old people music' was a terrific teacher, then invariably being asked to stay behind after class could only have been a good thing. Here at Dalton however, being kept behind after class could mean nothing but storm clouds looming on the horizon and the horizon was already stormy enough as it was.

Dr. Dimples smiled, and handed Kurt back the paper he had turned in the day before. Kurt looked down at the text only to see most of his own submission swamped in red ink and a cold sensation settled in the pit of the brunette's stomach. Red ink on an essay paper was never a good sign.

"I don't know what your teachers accepted prior to your matriculation here Master Hummel...", Kurt flinched involuntarily at the rebuke and dropped his eyes to the floor, "...but this paper simply isn't up to Dalton's standards."

Kurt didn't know what emotion his face had shown – shame, grief, anger, exasperation; all were definite possibilities – but the soprano knew that his mask must have cracked seeing the look of sympathy that crossed over the teacher's face as he raised his eyes to meet the older man's gaze.

"Now don't be discouraged...", said Dr. Dimples standing from his desk, the chair sliding backwards on the parquet flooring with a whisper as the older man put his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

_'That's easy for you to say – you aren't the one sucking academically...", _thought Kurt bitterly.

"You ideas aren't bad Kurt, but your interpretation of the text is quite original...", said Dr Dimples, rolling the word around in his mouth as if tasting a fine wine, "... I'm afraid that after searching my journals last night, I was unable to find any prescient argument in order to support you claims. This may be promising once you have time to put some serious research into it, but for now I need you to do something a little less out in left field."

"I understand Sir." Kurt said softly, suddenly missing the easy 'A's he'd gotten back at McKinley and once again dropping his eyes to examine his shoes. He had been fairly proud of his paper on the prosocial issues impacting Checkov's "The Cherry Orchard." If no one else could see the burning and repressed sexual tension between Trofimov and Lopakhin how was that his fault?

'_Checkov was a fan of slash; was it really that hard to believe?'_

"I'm sure you do..." said the teacher brightly, either not picking up on; or choosing not to acknowledge the heart wrenching agony laced in Kurt's tone, "... Now. Because this is your first Dalton assignment, I've decided to allow you some leeway. I will grant you the opportunity to revise your paper and salvage something other than a failing grade Master Hummel. Just make sure you have it to me by the morning break tomorrow and we shall say no more about it."

Kurt's face shot up, but when he saw the look on the teacher's face he didn't argue - the fight in the soprano was extinguished just as quickly as it had been stoked. He would have to 'revise', and by 'revise' Kurt meant, 're-write from scratch', a 15-page paper in a single evening on top of his other assignments. That was achievable surely – after all, who needs sleep, right?

Nodding his head in meek submission, the only outward sign of the brunette's inner turmoil the sudden creasing of the paper in his fist, Kurt turned to walk out of the classroom without another word.

"And Master Hummel...", called Dr. Dimples just as Kurt reached the threshold, "...I'll forget on this occasion only, that I saw you in a pocket square in a non-Dalton approved color. Please don't think I'll be that generous again."

"Yes Sir..."

Kurt sighed in resignation as he quickly pulled the offensive piece of fabric out of the breast pocket of his blazer and shoved it into his pants pocket.

* * *

Only a few steps down the now empty corridor, Kurt's conscience got the better of him. Stopping beside a heavy oak armoir, Kurt sat his book bag down before digging around in his pants pocket. Guiltily, the brunette withdrew the much maligned scrap of fabric and laid it on the wooden surface before him. Smoothing out the wrinkles before they became set in the fabric Kurt murmured softly as you would to calm down a small child or a pet,

"I'm sorry. It isn't your fault. There is no excuse for me treating such a gorgeous bit of Hermes raw silk like you in this way."

Nodding at his apology and feeling he had served his penance, Kurt carefully folded the fabric and slipped it into his satchel.

"It's better here. I just need to get use to the way things are done...",

And for the most part it was better at Dalton. Kurt had never had such a bully and tease free environment ever since he had first entered kindergarten. There we no dumpster dives or slushie attacks anywhere on the Dalton campus. But for all the improvements in one area, there were no real friends at Dalton either, which sucked.

Kurt snorted as it hit him that he had been talking to his accessories and to the empty hallways.

_'Accessories and empty hallways are all I have now though...'_

Blaine, had been great of course. The Dalton Academy's most popular boy had been nothing but kind, and funny, and popular, and gay, but he didn't have all that much time for Kurt. Being top of the food chain at Dalton meant that Blaine spent every minute of every day involved in either academics, the Warblers, the Student Council, or in charity work.

It wasn't Blaine's fault that Kurt was lonely.

Kurt did have a roommate of course, a quiet boy with horned-rimmed glasses and a displaced septum by the name of Buckley. But they hardly ever saw each other, and they had never really had a conversation of any import.

It wasn't just that everyone at Dalton was equal, but that everybody at Dalton was the same.

_'It's like an entire school filled with pod people...'_

Though he would never admit it aloud, Kurt would even take one of the pod people wearing one of Rachel's kitten sweaters just for a little variety. Kurt paused in his ruminations to pinch himself on the arm _hard – _Rachel's kitten sweater?

_'Holy Prada, I must be going crazy...'_

Still, none of that mattered at that exact moment though as for the next hour, Kurt had Warblers rehearsal. The soprano would be able to sing and in singing Kurt could find his peace again.

* * *

Walking into the room, one of the upper class-men handed Kurt some sheet music as soon as the brunette had set down his bag on one of the couches.

"Hummel, here is your part for the new arrangement. Do you know any Ke$ha?"

"Ke$ha?" Kurt asked but he was already looking down at the music. Whatever insults he had for the wannabe diva died on his lips as he looked over the music and the spark of hope that had ignited at the thought of singing was snuffed out in an instant, "...excuse me, but this music is too low for me."

The upper-class man looked down his nose at Kurt and sniffed as if Kurt's pointing out a valid concern were beneath him.

"It is the highest part we are using for this piece. If it is to low just mouth the words, I'm sure nobody will notice...", giving Kurt a Gallic shrug the upper class-man walked away without a backwards glance.

"Wonderful...", muttered Kurt as he debated just walking out – after all he could use the time to search Wikipedia more effectively than standing and miming the words.

* * *

It was one hour seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds; not that Kurt was counting; before the rehearsal ended and the brunette had sung not a single note. As everyone had packed away their things and made to leave, Kurt had tried to flag down Blaine, but the older boy only offered Kurt a brisk wave as he was ushered out of the room by several of his friends.

Closing over and securing his satchel and realising he had no reasons left to stall, Kurt returned to his room. Sighing as he realised Buckley was not in, as per usual, the soprano grabbed a protein bar and his shower stuff, before heading back out into the hallways.

Eating the power bar on his way, Kurt took a quick shower, and used the only moisturizer he still allowed himself.

If Kurt had taken the time to go through his old routine, the brunette would never have time to finish his homework. His dad and Carol had sacrificed so he could be here – so Kurt could sacrifice too.

* * *

Returning to his dorm, Kurt noticed a light blinking on his cell that he had left charging during classes that day. The soprano had gotten into the routine of spending his nights texting Mercedes and during the day was the only time he could keep the device plugged in to charge.

Snatching up his cell and flipping it open, Kurt expected to see a message from his BFF. He was surprised therefore when the message was from an unknown number – though it did have a Lima area code – the brunette noted.

Kurt was even more shocked when he read the message.

"_Dude, it sucks that you aren't here." _

Kurt sat down heavily on the chair at the small desk the brunette shared with Buckley; though the other boy had yet to actually use it, preferring to use the larger tables in the Library.

When Kurt had walked into his room, the soprano had never expected a message like this. Logically it had to be from one of the Glee boys, the McKinley Glee boys that was. No one else would be able to get his number, and it had to be a boy to start any message with the word 'dude'.

'_It had to be someone who didn't know how he despised being called 'dude' too...'_

Besides, Kurt already had all of the girls' numbers plus Finn and Artie's programmed into his cell, so that narrowed the field of potential suspects quite considerably.

Kurt puzzled over the unexpected conundrum for a moment before he realised and smiled slightly.

It had to be Sam.

The blonde boy; well bottle blonde anyways; had always gone out of his way to be nice to Kurt before the whole Karofsky thing. Kurt could easily see Sam doing something like this.

Kurt was happy that Sam had ended up with Quinn. The formerly-pregnant Cheerio needed a good guy after everything she had been through in the preceding year. Not that Kurt didn't need a good guy himself and if the brunette were honest with himself he'd been blown away by the sight of Sam in the showers that one time - Quinn was no doubt going to be a _very_ lucky girl; or a very sore girl - but still. Kurt grinned at his own amusement at the thought of Quinn's jaw dropping open when she got a peek at 'little' Sam.

Still, at the very least, Kurt was finally making some progress.

There would be no more lusting after straight men for this Hummel – well, for any Hummel really. Well, Carol was a Hummel now so…

Kurt slammed the door _hard _on that particular train of thought. There was no way the brunette was following where his deranged mind wanted to take him on that occasion.

_'Ewww... ewww... ewww... parent sex... ewww...'_

After thinking a moment he replied to the text.

"_Thanks. You have no idea how much that means after the day I've had."_

* * *

When his cell buzzed and vibrated on the floor beside him, Puck automatically glanced down at the screen. Having taken his eyes off of the action in front of him, even if only for an instant, Finn took advantage and totally owned the half-back's Master Chief.

"Dude, back off my balls... said Puck over the headset, "...I'm getting a text. Looks like at least one chick just can't stay away from Puckzilla. Audi 5."

Pulling the headset down and off of his head, Puck reached over and switched off his Xbox, plunging his bedroom into darkness. Puck picked up his cell to see which of his ladies was breaking the ban on cock which had been instigated by Santana that afternoon.

By last period, it had looked to the jock like every fuckable girl in school had one of those damn 'cockblocky' ribbons around her wrist. It had been abundantly clear that any dude that wasn't the Puckasaurus was set for a long dry spell.

Puck didn't mind personally – the half-back thought that it was cool that the girls were trying to help Hummel – but if they seriously thought that _he_ was going to go without getting any then they were crazy.

Flicking through his message history, Puck rolled his eyes at the name on the screen.

_'Ur Nxt X... what the fuck?'_

Puck growled as it clicked in his mind that this must have been what Santana had done when she grabbed his phone in the lunch room earlier that day. It was just like the Latina to have a back up cell number – no evidence that she'd broken her own cockblocking embargo and sexted him. Damn the girl was devious.

Santana had been right when she said that Puck hadn't been on his game since Juvie. It had sucked royally being locked up. No one had come to see him the entire time he was locked up – not even his Mom. And Juvie was a scary place. Manson Family scary. Puck had originally thought it would be all puppies and candy and that he would end up ruling the roost.

Day One when one of the other 'guests' - as the Warden had referred to them all - had been stabbed not three feet from where Puck sat eating his breakfast brought the harsh reality into stark focus.

Checking the message content, Puck wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"_Thanks. You have no idea how much that means after the day I've had."_

It wasn't really Santana's style for an opening salvo on one of the sexting marathons, but for all the jock knew Santana was doing some role-playing shit or something.

'_Yeah, role-playing that she wasn't in fact a sociopath... a hot sociopath but a sociopath nonetheless...'_

Roleplay was really more of Brit's style and tended to involve Disney, but whatever, he'd go with the flow. After all if it got him past this cock-embargo then it was all good.

Puck quickly focused on the screen in front of him before he tapped out a response to the Latina,

"Sorry your day sucks babe, anything I can do to make it better? What are you wearing?"

Puck grimaced at the totally lame way to start sexing, but Santana was going to have to let him know what she wanted if she was going to start fucking with their routine and trying something new.

Puck squeezed his eyes together when he saw the reply.

"My pajamas and fluffy slippers? BTW who the _Hell_ is this? Sam? Mike?"

Puck growled – so it wasn't Santana on the other end of the line and she'd sent this person a message in his name. That crazy bitch was gonna pay.

* * *

The amazing thing about text messages is the fact that there is no one there looking at you. Puck felt fine ignoring the royally pissed off person to scroll through his contacts. Punching the call button, when the line connected, he didn't even give the person on the other end time to speak.

"Satan-a, what the fuck have you done?"

The Latina laughed at the jock's indignant tone. Santana had just finished patrolling the local make-out sites to make sure no one was breaking her ban, and they were all blissfully empty. Nothing felt as good as an entire town listening to you; the absolute power of it was intoxicating.

And as if to top it all off, it seemed like Puck had stepped right into her plan. Just. Like. Clockwork.

"What do you mean Puckerman?...", Santana feigned ignorance and annoyance though internally she was dancing a happy jig, "... I have more important things to do than listen to you whine about not getting off with a freshman this afternoon."

"Hey, I didn't even do freshmen when _I_ was a freshman. And your little pussy ban isn't my problem, No one can stay away from Puckzilla that long. Whose number did you put in my phone? Is it Tina? I could fuck Tina."

Santana laughed. There were several ways she could play this, but deciding on the perfect one was like an artist choosing the perfect brush. Thinking that the best way to deal with the jock was to keep Puck off balance, she decided to dangle the truth in front of him like a metaphorical carrot. There was after all, no danger in Puck of all people outmaneuvering her.

"It was Kurt's number."

The Latina heard clearly, Puck sucking in air through his teeth and pause for a moment before he spoke again. His voice was lower, and Santana could almost here a glimmer of maturity shining through.

"That's totally not cool Lopez...", Puck only referred to the Latina by her surname when he was truly upset about something, "... Kurt has more to deal with right now then any of us, and he doesn't need to think I have a gay boner for him or anything."

Santana rolled her eyes. Manipulating Puck was just too easy; there was almost no challenge in it at all.

"Kurt may be a honorary girl, but he is _still _a guy Puck. It means a lot to him to have guy friends, and none of you are even talking to him. You are the one that sucks, not me."

'_Or at least you will... in time...'_

Santana gloated as Puck's immediate response was exactly what she had hoped for - silence as an admission of guilt.

"Why do you even care?"

Puck tried to sound pissed, but it didn't quite come out right as the jock's voice cracked slightly. Hummel was a cool kid once you got past all of the glitter and showtunes and shit. And contrary to the reputation the jock had worked hard to cultivate, Puck didn't like the idea that he had hurt anyone when he wasn't meaning to.

"You have got to be up to something. You have to have a heart to do something out of the goodness of it."

"Why Puck, you wound me so!", said Santana with a chuckle, "... alright, I'll level with you. I don't want to be a Lima Loser."

Santana was shocked at the amount of raw truth that bled through in that statement. Still, perhaps this slip was something she could use to her advantage. If life gives you lemons grind them in life's eyes until he gives you something better and all that.

"It doesn't matter how much money my Dad has or how big his house is, how many cars he owns or anything like that. If you prick me, I bleed Lima Loser just like you do. You are just like me Puck, and we are stuck here in this town and destined to rot. But these other kids; the kids in Glee aren't. They are going to go on to bigger and better things, and I want to be a part of that. They are good people, and they are stupid enough to be friends with Lima Losers like you and me."

"Fuck you Lopez."

"Never again Puckerman.

"No seriously, fuck you. Who the hell are you to tell me that I'm going nowhere?"

Puck couldn't stop the works pouring out of his mouth. He know that it would be safer playing with a rattlesnake then arguing with Santana when he was like this, but he could help it. She had managed to hit all of his buttons at once. She had laid every fear that he had ever had out in front of him, and his instincts were screaming to fight.

"I'm getting out of here! You can stay in Lima and turn into a crazy cat lady if you want but I'm getting out of here or I'll die trying."

Puck fought so hard, because what Santana was saying was so easy to believe. If anyone in their group had a chance of breaking out it would be Kurt, and Mercedes, Rachel, and Tina were not far behind. Finn and Quinn would mostly like end up in Lima, but they wouldn't be Lima Losers. No, the would be yuppy and happy and shit like Mr. Schue.

"I have skills!..." blurted Puck before he immediately squeezed his eyes closed at the absolute lamity of the statement. Lamity's wasn't a real word of course, but fuck it, Puck had always tended to get his words mixed up when he got flustered.

"Oh, really?..." Santana asked, her voice sweet enough to send someone into a diabetic coma. "...like what?"

Shit. Puck cursed himself blue as his mind suddenly went completely blank. He was Puckzilla, the half-back had to have skills to keep him from winding up working at the 7/11 all his life. Right?

"Ummm...", Puck replied stalling for time.

"That the best you got?...", Puck could hear the Latina's eyes as they rolled in their sockets. The jock didn't need a videophone to know that was the case.

Shit. What to say?

"I can fuck; I mean, I have a huge cock."

Well Hell.

"That is something to be proud of! Porn! And of course, you can use being an escort as a fall back plan...", the scorn in Santana's tone was clearly audible and riled Puck up and not in a good way either. He wanted to fucking strangle the mouthy little bitch.

A myriad of responses which would have normally rolled from Puck's tongue with nary a thought got jammed behind the sudden lump that had formed in the jock's throat. Santana had pressed too many buttons and had knocked him off of his axis. In the end he could only think of one response.

"Fuck off Lopez..."

"It's OK Puck, because we do have one skill. We are great people to have in your corner. And we are great fuck buddies. To us sex is sex, it doesn't matter where it comes from or how we get it. We're survivors. Just think about that one, Puckzilla."

With that, the Latina hung up.

* * *

**A/N: THANKS!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW - GO ON YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!**


	3. Ribs and Asian Vampires

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen. To those who have read Chapter 1 already i.e. not as a continuation of having read to this point today; please note that there was an 'administrative' error. Half of Chapter 1 never got posted. It's entirely the fault of my incompetent co-author (this is TJB writing the A/N btw before you start flaming needlessly). It's been updated now so I'd recommend if you're going to read on to go back and re-read. Sorry for any inconvenience.  
**

**Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

**Chapter Three: Ribs & Asian Vampires  
****

* * *

**

The following morning, Puck rolled out of bed at the sound of his alarm. Well, to say roll suggests that the jock had any kind of coordination at seven in the morning. To be more accurate, Puck jumped out of his skin at the blaring alarm and trapped as he was in a cocoon made out of his bedsheets, gracelessly tumbled onto the floor with a startled groan.

Getting to his knees, Puck slapped a heavy palm down on the top of the alarm and silencing the screaming high pitched wailing. Pushing himself up onto his feet with a groan, Puck stood basking in the absolute silence for a moment as he scratched at his abs and yawned widely. The conversation with Santana the night before had not made for a restful sleep once the girl had hung up on him.

'_That's another thing... she hung up on me! Puckzilla! Nobody hangs up on Puckzilla!'_

Digging through the hamper in the corner of his room, Puck tossed on some clothes that didn't smell too bad; the alternative was having to do laundry and the jock absolutely _hated_ laundry day. Still half asleep, Puck stumbled bleary eyed through to the kitchen where he proceeded to slump at the breakfast bar staring at his cell as he mechanically shovelled his frosted flakes into his mouth with a spoon.

This was fucked up. That was the only conclusion that the jock could find to adequately describe matters as they currently stood.

Puck wasn't the type of guy to sit around and obsess over his actions. Puckzilla was a bad ass, and a man of action.

'_A man of badass action... yeah that sounds good!' _

Pissed off at his own pussy reaction after talking to Santana the night before, he fired off a text back to Hummel.

"_Puck. I just wanted to see if I was talking to you or to the blazer-bound pod person that is trying to replace you." _

Sure as replies go, it was totally lame but Puck felt he would get better at dealing with Hummel with practice. Santana had been right about one thing - damn her. None of the guys at McKinley, bar Finn who literally _had_ to speak to Kurt what with their parents being married and all; had even tried to keep in contact once the soprano had bailed.

Puck supposed that if things really got desperate - and by desperate the jock meant he'd _literally_ run out of options - he could ask Rachel what shows wouldn't make him barf and watch them with his little sister to give him something to talk about with the smaller boy. He'd watched some with his sister before so it wouldn't be unheard of.

'_I'm not admitting I liked High Society though... not cool...' _

Finishing up the bowl of Frosted Flakes and feeling a lot better for the sugar intake, Puck nodded to himself in satisfaction. His plan was solidly cool and what could it hurt really? Moving to the sink to rinse out his bowl and spoon, Puck had just set both down to dry and was grabbing up his bookbag when his pants buzzed.

"Oooh yeah, that's the stuff...", groaned Puck chuckling at himself.

Fishing into his jeans pocket and pulling out his cell, the half-back couldn't help the smile that formed at reading Kurt's reply.

"_LOL. No, not yet, still 100% Grade A human here. Dalton is safe but not homey. At least yet. Miss you guys."_

Puck decided to hold off on sending a reply as if he took the time now, he'd end up being late for school. Not that being late was really going to make a huge difference to Puck's day. Still it did mean he'd probably not be able to grab a Slushie before retreating to the Nurse's Office for his morning nap. And that would just be tragic.

Pocketing his cell and slinging his bookbag over his shoulder, Puck had just descended the steps outside his apartment block when his pocket vibrated again.

"Oooh yeah, that's the stuff...", groaned Puck shivering in exaggerated delight as he groped in his pocket for his cell.

"Ahem..."

'_Shit!'_

Puck froze at the clearing throat and slowly turned to face his neighbour, Mrs Bartowski - an eighty-year old battle-axe with a demeanour akin to a riled up mountain lion. Even badasses like Puck knew better than to mess with Mrs Bartowski.

Sheepishly ducking his head at having been caught, Puck mumbled,

"Morning Mrs B...", before slinking off as quickly as his feet would carry him.

Rounding the corner out of sight of Mrs Bartowski, Puck again dug into his pocket, this time coming away with his cell in his hand. Seeing his pick-up in the distance, Puck quickly checked the message seeing that it was from Kurt again.

"And I meant it, thanks Puck. It meant a lot."

Puck didn't know what to think; after all it was just one text. Was Kurt really that lonely that even a text from _him_ was important to him? The jock resolved to speak with Finn at some point to see what the Quarterback thought of Kurt's emotional state.

Hopping behind the wheel of his pick-up, Puck jammed the key into the ignition and pulled away from the curb. At least today was Glee rehearsal day so school wouldn't be a complete washout as it normally was. Thinking of Glee gave Puck an idea. And Puck always liked his ideas. They were his and thus totally awesome.

* * *

Santana smiled to herself when she saw her Father sitting in his usual spot at the breakfast room table when she came down the next morning. The Latina was nothing if not a Daddy's Girl and everything she had ever learned about manipulating people she had learned at the knee of her Father.

That being said, everything she ever learned about spying she learned from her Mother; they were close too in a jealous rivalry sorta way. Still her Dad was able to get more nurses and interns into bed then ever her mom was able to find out about. He was sorta her hero.

'_Not that I'd be stupid enough to trust him completely of course, Dad or not...'_

"Daddy!...", Santana said smiling brightly as she skipped across the room to give the elder Lopez a kiss on the cheek. Though the act was in no way odd for the two of them her Father was no fool and the girl's tone of voice had clearly warned him that all was not as it seemed.

Alejandro Lopez eyed his daughter with veiled curiosity as he searched her face for any clue as to her motives for being so attentive so early in the day. Despite all of that, Alejandro was not a man to beat around the bush - now was no exception to the rule.

"What do you want Santana?"

The light in Santana's eyes dimmed for a split second at having been called out by her Dad much faster than she had anticipated.

Damn he was good. Still, Santana was more then just her Father's daughter. She could pull this off; she had no other choice.

"A photo op...", the Latina deadpanned as she crossed the room to take the French press away from their cook Gerta. Refiling her Father's cup with a sickly sweet smile, Santana sat down beside him, and placed her hand on his arm.

"I want to be Homecoming Queen, and I know for a fact, that you want to run for office next election. There is no way that anyone that is anything other then the whitest WASP is going to win election in a city like Lima."

Santana paused and poured herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice from the carafe on the table, while she let her little rant seep into her Father's consciousness. The Latina could already see Alejandro's eyes starting to flick back and forth as he tried to think around the information she was laying in front of him.

"So this photo opportunity?...", asked Alejandro leaning slightly closer to his daughter as the girl tried to keep the sense of triumph at having hooked her Father so simply from showing on her face.

"Did you know that the two poorest churches in town are a black and a Korean church?", Santana asked as she grabbed a crisp piece of bacon from her Father's plate and snapped it in two. From the tone of her voice one would assume that it was the most innocuous of questions; however this was Santana Lopez asking the question - with Santana there were always riddles, within mysteries, within enigmas.

Nibbling daintily on the bacon, the Latina continued waving a hand in the air nonchalantly as she chattered on,

"I happen to have a friend who goes to each church. If we sponsor a fundraiser, that shows we are home-y..." the Latina used air quotes as she said the last word, "...it will go a long way to winning people over. Especially with no election anywhere near now. This is planning ahead."

"Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Santana rolled her eyes. Like she would even be bringing this up if she didn't have everything in order. Life, Santana realised, was a lot like organising a Cheerios pyramid. Lay the groundwork and build upwards from the base. Did her Father really think she'd be so incompetent as to get ahead of herself? Really it was insulting.

'_Now is not the time to give in to Daddy issues though...''_

Fighting down her indignant feelings, Santana's mask of civility never wavered as she slipped a sheet of paper containing an itemised budget over to her Father. The Latina smiled at her Father as the older man became engrossed in the figures on the page before him..

"I'll let Mike and Mercedes know that you will be happy to help their churches Daddy...", she said before bounding up, and heading out to her car

"Oh, and I need my bedroom ceiling re-plastered and painted... love to Mother..."

* * *

Kurt had only been asleep for about forty-five minuets when his alarm began to beep waking him for the Warblers dance rehearsal scheduled for that morning. Since he had been at Dalton, Kurt had felt like none of his time had been his own. Between studying for his classes and performing with the Warblers, Kurt barely had time to talk to his best friend never mind do anything else. The soprano was starting to understand why there were no bullies here - they simply didn't have time to spare to pick on anyone.

Pulling on his uniform with uncharacteristic lack of interest in his appearance, frankly Kurt was beginning to get sick of navy and red, the soprano ignored the hungry growl in his stomach. Breakfast was not an option, there was, as always, no time. Doubling his pace so as not to be late, Kurt trotted up the main staircase towards the Music Rooms on the second floor. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, Kurt entered the practice room and took in the view.

Even at 7.30am, most of the other guys already had their blazers off and their sleeves rolled up, and a good many were already involved in the process of moving all of the couches against the wall. Kurt was setting down his satchel to help, when a hard grabbed his arm, and quickly ushered him down the hall and into an empty classroom. From the first moment of contact, Kurt had know it was Blaine, and admitted to himself with no small amount of chagrin that he'd happily allow himself to be led anywhere by the older boy.

'_God you're such a tramp Kurt...' _

Once they were alone, Blane smiled at Kurt, and it was all the younger boy could do not to gasp aloud. The brunette suddenly regretted having read all of those Jane Austen novels as a child; it was all Kurt could do not to try comparing Blaine to Mr Darcy.

"Kurt, I was wondering if I could ask you advice on something, but first I have a present for you...", reaching into his back pocket, Blaine handed Kurt a sheet of music, "...I noticed you were upset at music rehearsal last night, and Simpson said you had mentioned that the song was too low for your vocals. So... being the all round great guy that I am, I had them write another part for you."

Seeing the stupefied expression on Kurt's face, Blaine chuckled and raised his eyebrows,

"I hope that's OK."

"Perfect...", sighed Kurt, still tingling somewhat from the heat from Blaine's fingers brushing his when the other boy had passed him the sheet music,"...I mean, thank you. This is a perfect gift."

Kurt winced hoping that Blaine hadn't picked up on; or at least chose to ignore his unintentional slip.

"Awesome...", said Blaine, smiling once again and stepping back, "...cause, like I said, I have some advice to ask of you. There is a new guy at school, and I sorta think he is gay, and I sorta think he is cute."

Kurt's heart was beating a mile a minute and the soprano was sure that if he were to lean against any of the furniture in the room, the nervous tremors running through his small frame would cause it to vibrate like a cell phone. Both boys looked up in the same instant and their eyes met. Kurt let out a whisper like moan which thankfully for the soprano's dignity, Blaine missed entirely.

"And I _think _he sorta likes me too. I want to; well I want to sing a song for him. And I wanted your opinion on whether this was the right one or not. It has to be perfect."

Rushing across the room, Kurt was struck by just how _animated_ Blaine had become - the usually confident and erudite Warbler had been replaced by a nervous and desperate to impress guy.

'_If only he knew he didn't have to impress me...'_

Blaine hit the play button on an obviously preset stereo that must have been placed there earlier that morning and began singing after the initial intro had sounded. Kurt didn't know the song, but was soon blushing at the lyrics, and giggling at the faces Blaine was making as he sang his heart out.

"_Hey I've been watching you,  
Every little thing you do  
Every time I see you dance  
In my homeroom class, makes my heart beat fast  
I've tried to page you twice  
But I see you roll your eyes  
Wish I could make it real  
But your lips are sealed, that ain't no big deal_

_'Cause I know you really want me  
I hear your friends talk about me  
So why you tryin' to do without me_

_When you got me  
Where you want me..."_

Kurt giggled as Blaine danced and made faces around him. So much for his secret crush being a secret. However, it didn't matter . So what if Blaine knew? Blaine liked him back.

"_(Hey Juliet)  
I think you're fine  
You really blow my mind  
Maybe someday, you and me can run away_

_I just want you to know  
I wanna be your Romeo_

_Hey Juliet  
(Hey Juliet)_

_Girl you got me on my knees  
Beggin' please, baby please  
Got my best DJ on the radiowaves saying  
Hey Juliet, why do you do him this way_

_Too far to turn around  
So I'm gonna stand my ground  
Gimme just a little bit of hope  
With a smile or a glance, gimme one more chance_

_'Cause I know you really want me  
I hear your friends talk about me  
So why you tryin' to do without me_

_When you got me  
Where you want me..."_

Kurt couldn't help it any more; he had to act. Walking over to Blaine, the smaller boy danced with his crush - and dare he think it - his about-to-be-boyfriend?

"_Hey Juliet  
I think you're fine  
You really blow my mind  
Maybe someday, you and me can run away_

_I just want you to know  
I wanna be your Romeo  
Hey Juliet..."_

As the song finished, the boys collapsed in a pile on the ground laughing. To Kurt, this was the moment, the gestalt; Blaine, dancing, Dalton, life just felt so right; everything that the soprano had wanted was now slotting into place. Who would have thought that the thing preventing it had been being at McKinley? Sliding over, Kurt started slowly moving in for a kiss when Blaine asked breathlessly,

"So was it any good?"

"Amazing. I loved it."

"Totally Awesome. Ricky will totally go for it then, you're so alike..."

With a quick squeeze to Kurt's upper arm and brushing an almost motherly kiss to his cheek, Blaine left the room.

Kurt remained where he was lying on the floor on his back and laughed. It was either that, vomit, or cry, and he simply didn't have time for the last two options as they'd both require clean-up.

Blowing off dance practice - Kurt knew that Blaine would cover for him at this point in 'return for the advice - the brunette shuffled back to his dorm room after dropping off his paper at Dr Dimple's faculty mailbox and after having swung by the Nurse's Office to get a medical excuse for the day.

Getting a ticket of leave wasn't as difficult as you'd imagine. Kurt wondered whether it was just standard in the education system that Nurse's hand out free day passes like dentist's do lollipops. Of course, on this occasion it could have been when the Nurse saw how pale and shaky Kurt was that she ordered him to his room. Answering honestly the question about when he'd last eaten - the power bar before his shower the night before and then nothing since - got him a deserving admonishment and instructions to eat a large lunch and dinner that night.

"Make sure to get lots of protein" she had added as an afterthought. There had to be a joke in there somewhere, but Kurt was just too tired to care.

Returning to his room, Kurt peeled off his Dalton uniform with undisguised relish, and crawled into bed in just his boxers. It was completely unlike Kurt not to even bother with his cute Vera Bradley pajama bottoms and it was a testament to just how deeply in shock the brunette was.

A blinking from his nightstand drew Kurt's attention as he reached out and snatched up his cell. Glancing at the sender, Kurt was surprised to see that he had another message from his mystery man.

'_I suppose there's a vacancy in that department now...', _thought Kurt morosely_._

Rolling his eyes at himself and his sudden defeatist attitude, Kurt was shocked at the fact that Puck of all people was texting him. It wasn't completely beyond the realms of possibility that Puck would text him; but for the half-back to be joking with him - that was a surprise. Kurt still couldn't help but be pleased though, after everything that had just happened he could use an ear; even if it wasn't a particularly friendly one.

After firing off a couple of quick replies to the most unlikely of Gleek texting buddies, Kurt saved Puck's number under the name Charles Atlas in his phone. For some reason, the soprano just didn't feel...right...safe...putting Puck's name in.

Anyway, as cute as Sam looked in his gold spandex hot pants, there would have been no question about who would have played Rocky if Puck had not been in Juvie. Between the two, Sam was way closer to the 98 pound weakling, and Puck would have the Charles Atlas seal of approval.

Deciding it was lack of sleep that allowed his mind to follow down such _twisted_ paths, Kurt pushed his cell under his pillow and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Santana walked into the Cafeteria to see Mike, Tina, and Mercedes already seated at a table together. Putting on her sexiest smirk and adding a little flick to her swagger; after all the Latina was the instigator of the current embargo and wanted everyone to truly realize what they were missing out on; Santana marched over to their table.

"So, my Father is doing a charity event that may be picked up on state news channel, and I told him I knew a Blasian fusion duo that could provide vocals for the event...", said Santana casually as she sat down in the seat across from Mike ensuring to give the Asian boy an enticing flash of her smooth and toned legs in the process.

"You know we are down girl...", said Mercedes as she linked her hand with Tina's and the other girl nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, I don't think I was clear. This is not a job for Asian Vampire Princess, this one goes to Other Asian...", said Santana as she allowed her grin to grow only slightly.

"Me?" Mike asked shocked and glancing between the Latina and the clearly put out Tina.

"Yes you, My day is throwing a fundraiser for both yours and Aretha's churches, and my Dad told me that I had to invite you two to sing."

Rolling her eyes for dramatic effect, Santana huffed and sighed.

"Like I would ever want to be caught dead at a rib cook off...", she mumbled loud enough for the other three to hear.

"Did you say ribs?" Mercedes asked suddenly interested in the turn the conversation had taken and ignoring the death glare sent her way by a still visibly fuming Tina.

"Why would you Dad just think of something like this?...", asked Tina, the tone of her voice a mix of confusion and resentment, "...they aren't his churches after all."

Damn, Asian Vampire Princess was being smart again. Santana had to get Artie's dick in her mouth and fast so she would stop talking - or at least be reduced to a dull muffle.

"Yes ribs, BBQ ribs verses Korean ribs or something like that; my Dad is big on BBQ. Blah, blah, blah, I don't care. Also my dad has a soft spot for maids. My Abuela was a maid, and apparently this little old lady came into my Dad's office and talked about her church. After that I stopped listening...", said Santana shrugging as if her lack of attention was in any way a deficiency.

"Anyway, the event is going to go on for like ever - who would have thought a rib would take so damn long to cook but there you go - so you better have enough duets to cover the whole time. And they all have to be good, cause firstly it's _my_ rep on the line if you suck and secondly we have no idea when the news crews are coming."

Santana levelled her best 'Bitch from Hell' glare at the pair of potential lovers as she growled out her final warning; which was in essence nothing more than the final cherry on the cake.

"I will if necessary, cut you if you embarrass my Daddy. For some reason that escapes me, he thinks we are close or something."

Rolling her eyes at the slack jawed yokels her 'friends' had become; Santana flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and without a further word stalked out of the lunch room and toward the gym.

'_Gotta stay hot if I want Brit back after all... and I had bacon at breakfast...'_

Puck almost hummed with pent up energy during Glee that day. It took everything the half-back had in him not to stand up in front of of Mr. Schue right there and then and tell everyone his idea. The jock held himself back though as Mr Schue was cool for an old dude and Puck didn't want to give him any shit.

So quite unlike himself and more like a good little Glee clubber - something that Puck had never thought he'd consider himself - the half-back waited until everything was done before standing up and clearing his throat.

"OK, I gotta talk to you everybody, well not you Mr Shue...", said Puck with chagrin at seeing the momentary look of disappointment on the teacher's face.

The teacher shrugged, and smiled to everyone as he walked out, and Lauren muttered 'whatever' as she followed him - in truth Puck had been avoiding making eye contact with Princess Fiona ever since their rendezvous. The nightmares still hadn't gone away.

Seeing his plan slipping away before his eyes, Puck flexed his pecks and bowed up a little to show the other people there that he was serious. None of the other club members seemed to be trying to go anywhere though which Puck thought was kinda cool.

'_Not that I'm getting all sappy and shit over these losers...' _

"So I texted Kurt...", Puck glanced at Santana but saw only an implacable mask as per usual, "... and he seemed upset and stuff. And that isn't cool."

Puck was doing his best to talk about this emotion shit, but it just wasn't in him to continue and so he looked for assistance.

"Fuck it, how is our boy doing Aretha?", Puck asked throwing a lifeline to the black girl figuring that if anyone had been in regular contact with Kurt it would be Aretha.

"Well, he feels safer there..." she said slowly, a little confused by the sudden concern being shown by the jock. At Puck's continued urging though Mercedes continued, her voice falling more sombre, and her eyes shifting hesitantly around the group.

"But he is really lonely and the classes are really different then they are here. He - he wouldn't admit it to me in a million years, you all know how stubborn Kurt can be - but he's struggling. I can tell."

"See!...", exclaimed Puck like that explained everything, "...We need to be better friends or junk."

Santana was almost getting wet she was so excited. Her plan was working out better then she could have ever dreamed of. Speaking up as if the thought had only just occurred to her; spurred on by Puck's impassioned speech the Latina pitched in,

"We should get Kurt to come to my party Friday. We can make him feel special."

"I have several ideas about that as it happens..." Rachel started before Puck cut her off at the knees.

"Good and we'll do those, but we are talking about my ideas now. I'm holding the conch shell sister...", Puck poked himself in the chest for emphasis, "...My shell, my ideas..."

Looking to make sure everyone was watching the jock nodded and continued.

"Earlier today I asked...", Artie gave him a hard look, "...ok, I _persuaded_ - that's all I'm giving you Abrams so shove it - several members of the AV club to rig up the auditorium. I figured we could record a song and send it to Hummel."

Grabbing some sheet music from the band he handed it out to the others who immediately began to read over it, some frowning at a song they were unfamiliar with and others nodding appreciatively.

"Finn can take lead, and we'll just back him up."

"That sounds... _Charming_...", quipped Quinn as all of the girls in the group tittered at the pun, whilst all the guys went to an imaginary visual place filled with images Alyssa Milano - dipped in chocolate.

"Umm, dude, I don't know The Smiths...", said Finn staring in confusion at the sheet music, "... sorry."

"Dude...", was all PPuck could think to say through his disappointment - how could any self respecting guy not know The Smiths? Of course, trust Puck to pick out a badass song that Finn didn't know.

"I know...ouch!...", Sam started before Santana quickly snatched the end of his sentence away from under him and left him with a forming bruise on his impressive bicep

"...just how to fix this. This your your idea Puck. You sing it."

Santana knew that Puck wouldn't refuse - it wasn't in the jock's nature to back down from anything - this would be no different. The Latina smirked in satisfaction as true to expectation Puck nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, Morrissey would be badass in a weird way I guess...", Puck shrugged as he switched music with Finn who agreed to take up the drums instead, "... whatever, I can work with it..."

Walking to the auditorium the Gleeks arranged themselves on stools surrounded by fog and harsh overhead lighting. Odd shadows danced across each of their faces, and Puck's eyes seemed heavily lidded as he began singing into the the camera that was set up.

"_I am the son and the heir  
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar  
I am the son and heir  
Of the nothing in particular_

_You shut your mouth, how can you say  
I go about things the wrong way  
I am human and I need to be loved  
Just like everybody else does_

_I am the son and the heir  
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar  
I am the son and the heir  
Of nothing in particular_

_You shut your mouth, how can you say  
I go about things the wrong way  
I am human and I need to be loved  
Just like everybody else does_

_There's a club  
If you'd like to go  
You could meet somebody  
Who really loves you_

_So you go and you stand on your own  
And you leave on your own  
And you go home  
And you cry and you want to die_

_When you say it's gonna happen now  
Well, when exactly do you mean?  
See, I've already waited too long  
And all my hope is gone_

_You shut your mouth, how can you say  
I go about things the wrong way  
I am human and I need to be loved  
Just like everybody else does"_

With the last line, Puck took a moment to really look into the camera, and then he couldn't resist giving a little wink. Looking at Artie he asked,

"Can you get that to him tonight?"

"Sure..." the wheelchair bound boy replied as a disc was already spinning in the drive of his laptop which was attached to the camera feed. All that it would take after that was for someone to sneak into the school mail room and it would be at Dalton by morning.

Santana couldn't hide her smile of satisfaction any longer as she watched Puck walk out of the auditorium.

Tina just watched her silently

* * *

**A/N: Song credits in this chapter go to "How Soon is Now" by "The Smiths" and "Hey Juliet" by "LMNT".**

**PLEASE REVIEW - IT WOULD MEAN A LOT.**


	4. Not All DVDs Are Porn

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen. Thank you also to those who have reviewed thus far, your encouragement makes writing much more enjoyable.**

**Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

**Chapter Four: Not All DVDs Are Porn**

* * *

By the moment she had stepped from the shower that morning and had begun to towel off, Santana had decided that nothing important could ever happen on a Thursday. And so, with that thought in mind, the Latina got dressed and heading down to the kitchens gave Jarvis a list of everything necessary for the party the next day. Quickly grabbing a half-grapefruit for breakfast Santana picked up her keys and purse and headed to the spa - nobody would care if she was at school or not.

The Latina was looking forward to the party now that plans were in motion. Sure, Mercedes and Tina might have planned the logistics of this little soiree, but only Santana knew what was really happening. As always with the Latina, there were plans within plans, wheels within wheels - Santana's mind was always ticking over with new ideas, new scenarios and outcomes; all which would ultimately benefit her. It was that which made the thought of lying in a mud bath and _not_ thinking such an attractive proposition.

'_Being me is such hard work...' _

There was also of course, the added pressure to look _especially _hot - because let's face it Santana looked hot all of the time, so that wasn't an issue - for Brit and to show everyone else what they couldn't have.

Slipping behind the wheel of her little sports car - a present from her Father after successfully passing Drivers Ed - Santana floored the accelerator and peeled out of the drive in a cloud of gravel and dust.

* * *

The next day at school, Santana could see that a profound lack of sex was starting to get to the male population of McKinley High. Groups of boys stood in small isolated pockets whining and moaning and sending longing glances in the direction of their estranged partners.

It was pathetic.

And highly amusing.

Santana allowed herself a little chuckle as she sashayed down the hallway in the direction of the Choir Room seeing all of the boys perking up and then watching as their faces fell at the realisation of who it was that was approaching.

'_That's it boys; look but don't touch...'_

This weekend would prove to be the first major test of Santana's plans. If Santana had her way every boy, with one very specific exception of course, would be having a very dick in hand weekend.

Walking into the Choir Room, Santana smirked as she purposefully sat herself down in the last seat on the row, so that Brittany wouldn't be able to sit by Artie when the pair finally rolled up to class together. Feeling not a little pleased with how things had thus far worked out, the Latina smiled, but looked up when a shadow fell across her.

Standing in front of her was Tina - and the Asian girl looked like she clearly wanted to say something. Quirking an eyebrow and adopting a bored expression, Santana flipped her ponytail over her shoulder while waiting for the Asian girl to speak.

Tina's outfit was even weirder then usual today noted Santana - some sort of black, on grey, on black patchwork number that did absolutely nothing for the girl's figure.

"I want you to listen carefully to my song today; know that I'm watching you at your party tonight and then I want you to meet me at Breadstix tomorrow for lunch...", said Tina her tone of voice brooking no argument. Of course - she was speaking to Santana however; who took no shit from no one.

"Get over yourself Asian, there is no way...", snapped Santana; her eyes lighting with a fire.

"Oh, you'll do it...", said Tina cutting the Latina off mid-stream and sitting down in the seat beside Santana so as not to draw any further attention to their conversation, "... you'll do it or otherwise I'm going to have to start talking and asking questions - and something tells me that you can't have someone asking questions at the moment."

As the rest of the Gleeks began to file into the Choir Room, Tina quietly stood up and retreated to the far side of the room to sit beside Mike, whilst Brittany sat beside Santana and cheerily offered the Latina a smile that warmed her heart.

* * *

"OK guys settle down. We have something a little different for us to begin with today...", said Mr Schue drawing the attention of the assembled Gleeks, ".. I understand that Tina has a performance she'd like to share with us all - Tina?"

All eyes turned to look at the usually quiet and reserved Goth girl as Mr Schue nodded to Tina in encouragement. Standing up and ignoring the curious look from Mike, who clearly knew about as much about the performance as the rest of the group, Tina moved to stand in front of the piano. Nodding to Brad and letting loose a small smile as the music started, Tina sang.

"_I sense there's something in the wind  
That feels like tragedy's at hand  
And though I'd like to stand by him..."_

Mike shifted uncomfortably in his chair as the lyrics Tina was singing began to sink in. The pair had watched Nightmare Before Christmas together just a few weeks earlier, and even at the time Mike had thought the song sounded like a Gothy, Disney, break-up kinda song.

If that was what was happening now - it was not cool. No more Asian kisses - bummer. Seeing the looks of shock and sympathy being aimed at him from some of the other Gleeks led Mike to the realisation he wasn't the only one to have reached the same conclusion.

"_Can't shake this feeling that I have  
The worst is just around the bend..."_

The Asian girl locked eyes with Santana and in that instant, the Latina realised with growing dread that Tina had figured something out - how much however was still unknown.

'_Apparently Asian vampires are shifty vampires... god dammit...' _

"_And does he notice my feelings for him?  
And will he see how much he means to me?..."_

Artie looked confused and slightly uncomfortable - at the knowing looks from some of the girls like Mercedes and Quinn and from the blank and completely oblivious Brittany. The wheelchair bound boy shifted nervously in his chair.

'_Maybe something can be salvaged from this train wreck if Wheels still likes Asian Vampire Princess...'_

"_I think it's not to be  
What will become of my dear friend?  
Where will his actions lead us then?  
Although I'd like to join the crowd  
In their enthusiastic cloud  
Try as I may, it doesn't last  
And will we ever end up together?  
No, I think not, it's never to become  
For I am not the one..."_

After the last note died away, and the applause, and confused looks ended, Santana raised her hand.

"Mr Schue, I know rehearsal is really important and everything, but we are having a Glee bonding sleepover tonight, and we really need to leave early to get ready."

"Well, Santana...", said Mr Schue looking as if he wanted to argue.

"Thanks, you really do care about us as a team Mr Schue...", said Santana quickly flashing the teacher a smile and effectively cutting Mr Schue off at the knees.

Santana stood and quickly moved over to a pile of boxes that had been stashed behind the band's equipment when the Latina had gotten to school that day.

'_I feel like Santana Claus...'_

Handing each member of the group, with the notable exception of Bigfoot; not that Santana gave a crap about the glare from the girl; a garment bag the Latina turned to the door.

"These are your specifically tailored outfits for this evening. There are make-up diagrams in the bag for the girls. Berry, with me."

Bending to pickup one final box and making sure to flash the boys her panties as she did so, Santana walked out the door not even bothering to check whether Rachel was following her.

Mr Schue still stood in the centre of the room looking bemused at how he'd lost complete control, whilst Brad snickered silently at the teacher's expression from behind the piano.

* * *

"I'm not some dog that you can order around y'know...", grumbled Rachel as Santana led them down the hallway and into an unused and therefore empty class room.

Setting the box down on the table beside her Santana levelled her most lethal warning glare at Rachel and was pleased to see the other girl gulp suddenly realising what she'd said and who to.

"Sit."

Rachel sat.

"Stay."

Rachel froze.

Santana smirked.

"Good girl."

From the expression on Rachel's face it was clear to Santana that her little display had touched a nerve. The Latina was unrepentant however as sometimes, it was all Santana could do not to want to strangle the Glee club's 'Captain' with one of her own kitten sweaters.

"Just - what do you want Santana?"

"I wants to make sure you haven't chosen some cheesy show tunes for my party...", said Santana with a laconic drawl, "... unlike _you_, I have a rep to protects."

"You realise that you can't have a plural after saying 'a' right?", asked Rachel waspishly, "... It's terrible grammar..."

Santana raised her hand with the palm facing Rachel as she rolled her eyes,

"Talks to the hands..."

Rachel rolled her eyes again as she fished around in her bag for her iPod.

"Look Santana, I know you like winning just as much as I do, but we have to accept that we may not have Kurt back for Regionals...", said Rachel sporting a triumphant look on her face as she finally proved able to pull the device from the depths of her bag.

Santana smirked too. Asian might have an idea what was going on, but little Miss Streisand still had no clue. Grimacing, Santana accepted the offered ear bud but only after pointedly wiping it on Rachel's kitten sweater.

"Wax...", the Latina explained to the offended Rachel.

Santana couldn't help but approve of they style and lyrics of the songs Rachel had chosen - even though what she really wanted was yet another excuse to insult the girl. Still that opportunity would no doubt present itself soon enough.

The first song was haunting and sad and the second was still sad but had a definite strand of hope running through it.

"Well Berry, knock me down with a feather... it seems like you managed to do something right on the song choices. So who is singing what?", asked Santana plucking the ear bud from her ear and offering Rachel a genuinely impressed smile.

Either ignorant of the condescending tone to Santana's praise; or likely too swept up in the thought of the musical performances, Rachel responded immediately.

'_Like an eager puppy...'_

"Well, Finn is singing the first one, with Puck backing him up on guitar... On the second one, Tina, 'cedes and I will sing and Artie is playing guitar for us to back us up. Do you approve?"

Santana approved - but it wouldn't do to let Rachel's rampant ego get out of control.

"It's _adequate_..."

The real test would be whether Hummel would approve of the Glock playing to him in the outfit she had picked out for him. If she hadn't already been so fixated on getting Brittany back, Santana would have probably made a play for Puck in that outfit herself. Still that was all in the past now - she was going to be a one girl girl.

Giving Rachel a curt nod, the Latina reached into Rachel's bag - ignoring the girl's mutterings about invasion of privacy - and pulled out her cellphone.

"Call Dalton's switchboard. We need to make sure to get Kurt to the party tonight...", said Santana her tone of voice demanding that her instructions be followed without question, "... after all how can we have a Ball without the Queen in attendance?"

"What? No! Why? Why, me... why should I call?", stammered Rachel, her eyes wide with a sudden fear.

"Because...", said Santana as if she were speaking to a small child - or an idiot, "... we are calling half an hour before close of business on a Friday to get a new student out of school for the weekend. You're going to have to sound pathetic for this to work - just, just be, well - _you._"

"Fine. Watch and learn then...," said Rachel rising to the challenge and raising her very bushy eyebrows far enough that they disappeared into her hairline, '...this is how someone with real talent does something."

Snatching the cell from Santana's proffered hand, Rachel called directory assistance to get the number for Dalton Academy and in short order had the operator connecting her through to the main office.

"_Dalton Academy switchboard, Sarah speaking?"_

"Hello, this is Rachel Berry, Burt Hummel's assistant at Hummel Tire and Lube. I have one quick question if that's OK Sarah, Where on the grounds should Mr Hummel's stepson pick up his son Kurt this evening? Sure I have no problem hanging on..." Rachel paused for a moment obviously listening to Sarah speaking on the other end of the line, before picking up the threads of the conversation again, "...Well, that isn't good is it? Kurt has a Scientology Audit. Mr Hummel made sure to choose a school that was open and tolerant for Kurt. What? Oh, Monday. Sure thing. Front Circle? I'll let them know. OK, bye bye then."

Hanging up the phone, Rachel hurriedly handed the handset over to Santana.

"When it rings answer with a thick accent."

For once in her life, Santana did exactly as she was instructed.

"Hummel Tire and Lube, dis is Margarita Lemon, ow may I help chu? Mr. Hummel, no, he is out of the office dis afternoon. Nos vemos."

Rolling her eyes she handed the phone back to Rachel.

"So, will Frankenteen actually go get his new gay brother?

"Oh, he'll be there - I'll make sure of it...", said Rachel.

Nodding in apparent satisfaction, Santana waved a hand at the box on the table indicating that Rachel should take it and walked from the room.

* * *

Kurt had managed to now go over twenty-four hours without actually communicating with another human being. Well, verbally at the very least. The soprano had talked to 'cedes over text and IM the prior night and far into the wee hours of the morning, but it really wasn't the same.

Even during classes that day, the brunette hadn't had cause to open his mouth - what was the point anymore? No teacher had called on him for an answer - which was just as well as more often that not he didn't have the answer anyway - no one had asked for a pencil, and no one had even bumped into him in the halls, so that he would have opportunity to apologise.

Kurt had never known that silence could be so loud - it was deafening. Even sat surrounded by the other members of the Warblers during dinner that evening, the brunette might as well have been sitting in a room by himself.

It was torture.

Shuffling lethargically into the common room on the way back to his dorm - another night of Wikipedia searching ahead of him - Kurt was surprised to see a cardboard envelope sticking out of his mailbox. Since starting at Dalton the soprano had watched other students receiving mail, packages and on one memorable occasion a pair of silk panties from one of the senior's girlfriends. Praying that his envelope didn't contain any used panties, Kurt pulled it free and with a renewed sense of purpose, tore at the perforated edge. The brunette paused in confusion as an unmarked DVD fell into his hands.

'_Huh?... I didn't order any porn...'_

Slipping the rectangular box into his satchel, Kurt quickly made his way back through the winding hallways of the Academy to his dorm room. Switching on the lights and again noting that Buckley was nowhere to be found, Kurt dropped his satchel on the desk before he crossed to a small set of cupboards under the window.

Picking up a small bag from the lower shelf, Kurt unpacked his laptop and booted it up. Checking his emails out of habit and sighing when he saw no new messages - except for spam emails offering him Viagra...

'_Viagra?... I'm 16... I need anti-Viagra!'_

Kurt popped the DVD into the drive and waited until the whirring had died away to a dull roar and the Media Player automatically started to play the contents of the disc. Settling himself on his bed with his back against the headboard and the laptop resting on his knees, Kurt was intrigued by the smokey scene that appeared in front of him. It was obviously his school, well his _old_ school, but Kurt still had no idea why he would be getting a movie.

Any thoughts of what was going on fled Kurt's mind as soon as the first image appeared on the computer screen. He gasped. Puck was singing to him. About pain. And loneliness. And love? The small boy sat down hard on his bed extremely confused. Why the hell was Puck messing with him? But then again, it couldn't be a joke could it? After all all of the Glee kids were backing him up, and his girls wouldn't let the jock play him like that. It was all very confusing, and was a problem for Kurt, and then he realized just exactly how hard of a problem it was for him.

"I shall not lust after another breeder, I shall not lust after another breeder..." repeated the brunette as a mantra willing his prominent hardon away.

By the time Puck gazed deep into the camera and winked at Kurt, the soprano almost came in his pants.

'_Crap, that wink is going to haunt me for days...' _

Adjusting himself and shifting the laptop slightly as it was sitting at a jaunty angle - and it kinda hurt too - Kurt sighed and began chanting his mantra over again. Kurt's erection disappeared faster than credit during the Christmas sales though when the door to his room was pushed opened from the outside and Buckley staggered in, wheezing and simultaneously trying to take a deep pull from his asthma inhaler.

"There - there's...", Buckley paused and took another deep breath, clearly he'd had to climb up from the ground floor to deliver the message, "... there's a jock in the Common Room here to see you."

Kurt raised a single curious eyebrow at the proclamation before he nodded - could it be Puck? Is this the part where the half-back comes in person to try to make fun of him in front of his new friends? First the texts, then the DVD and now a personal appearance?

'_What was his game?'_

Shutting down his laptop and putting it away again while Buckley seemed to putter about aimlessly; though the other boy continued to wheeze and appeared to be on the verge of passing out; Kurt left the dorm and descended by way of the main staircase. Half of the soprano was praying to Marc Jacobs that it was Puck who had come to visit; the other half, the upper half that didn't get engorged with blood at the most inopportune moments; was praying to Prada it was _anyone_ else.

Wandering down through four levels worth of staircase gave Kurt the time he needed to properly compose' himself - though the brunette wished he'd stopped off at the bathroom to touch up his make-up. Reaching ground level and swinging around the staircase in the direction of the tall oak doors - all Dalton seemed to be made up of was an endless series of tall oak doors - Kurt was proud of himself that he was able to present a truly happy and pain free smile when he saw Finn standing there awkwardly talking to Blaine.

As Kurt walked up, the dark haired boy smiled at him widely and it was like a lance to the brunette's heart.

"Kurt! There you are good, Buckley found you then... I didn't know you were a Scientologist - we'll have to talk all about Thetans soon, the whole thing is fascinating. Well, anyway I won't keep you any longer, just be sure to have fun this weekend...", despite his reservations, Kurt submitted to the quick hug offered to him by Blaine as he smiled at Finn over the other boy's shoulder.

Blaine turned to address Finn finally before taking his leave,

"Be sure to take care of my boy now will you?"

Kurt pasted a smile onto his face even though his heart shattered as the words spilled effortlessly from Blaine's mouth. Of course, it wasn't Blaine's fault - he was oblivious to Kurt's feelings for him - that was completely the problem.

"I will... besides Kurt's family now...", said Finn giving Blaine his patented goofy, lopsided grin.

Waving to them both, Blaine trotted away in the direction of the main staircase and with him went all thoughts of Puck. Kurt could still feel the tingle in his limbs from the contact with Blaine's arms during their hug and so was a not completely with it when Finn asked innocently,

"Is he like, your boyfriend?"

Harsh reality crashed down around Kurt at the sound of those words and the soprano automatically fell back on his 'bitchier' persona,

"Scientologist?" asked Kurt quirking an eyebrow at a sheepish looking Finn, "... Besides, why are you here?"

"Yeah...", Finn answered nodding fervently - hard enough that Kurt was sure the Quarterback would pull something, "...I didn't know you were in science club either, but that is what Rachel said to say when I picked you up."

"Science...", muttered Kurt feeling the first initial stirrings of a headache on the horizon.

Finn shrugged his large shoulders,

"Yeah, so I'm here because Rachel told me to come get you?", said the Quarterback, turning what had started as a statement into a question with his confused tone of voice.

Kurt couldn't help it. He smiled. It was pure Finn. The boy would do anything, for anyone and never ask for an explanation.

'_God I've missed Finn...' _

"So, are you here to rescue me?", asked Kurt, suddenly very interested in the answer - if Finn were to say no, the brunette would probably start crying.

"I guess?...", replied Finn - his suddenly unsure tone of voice making Kurt's smile widen further, "... that is, if you want to be rescued?"

Kurt tittered at Finn's expression and linked his arm through his step-brothers,

"I would love to be rescued - especially if where I'm going has a bucket of non-fat popcorn and a copy of My Fair Lady..."

"Uh... I'm not sure..."

Kurt's happy laughter - his first in days - drowned out the rest of Finn's hesitant response as the soprano led the Quarterback in the direction of the main entrance,

"My knight in shining armour. C'mon, lets blow this popsicle stand!"

* * *

**A/N: Song credit is "Sally's Song" from "The Nightmare Before Christmas" - quite fitting for this time of year...**

**PLEASE REVIEW**


	5. Let's Get Ready To Party!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen.**

**Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

**Chapter Five: Let's Get Ready To Party!**

* * *

The drive back to Lima in Finn's beat up old Pontiac was quiet by all accounts - well as quiet as two teenagers singing along with the radio at the top of their lungs can be. There was no conversation to be had though and truthfully, Kurt was fine with that. It was nice and comfortable and just _normal_ for he and Finn not to have much to talk about and to just to goof off.

Finn's foot stayed pinned to the floor of the car as the Pontiac sped on its route back towards Lima. Kurt was just starting to feel the first stirrings of excitement about the possibility of seeing his Dad and Carole, when the Quarterback turned off of the I75 early and ventured into a neighborhood that the soprano was not familiar with.

Kurt reached out and turned down the volume on the radio so that he could hear himself think,

"Uh - where are we going, Finn?"

Kurt stared out of the window as they sped by a sign announcing the Lima Country Club and on up a steep winding road towards some of the prettiest houses the soprano had ever set his eyes on.

'_Houses fit for Gaga..._'

"Oh, the Glee kids are having a party tonight..." Finn said looking over to grin at the brunette.

"A party!...", Kurt shouted and almost started to hyperventilate, "Finn, I...I..."

He would refuse to go on. He was still in his Dalton uniform and his daytime make-up - not to mention the fact that his hair product was about to give up the ghost. If he'd been given any kind of warning! Oh that boy!

"I know, exciting huh...", said Finn misunderstanding the smaller boy's shrill tone of voice, "...Well we've all really missed you and Santana's folks are out of town and everyone is really looking forward to seeing you..."

Kurt didn't know whether to smack Finn, as the Quarterback continued to prattle on with his justifications for not telling the soprano about the party - or to just burst into tears at the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach - a feeling that Kurt had almost forgotten existed, at Finn's verbalisation that his friends had missed him.

'_I'd almost thought they'd forgotten me...'_

As Finn pulled up to a set of large wrought-iron gates and wound down the driver's side window, he paused and glanced at Kurt - either not noticing or choosing to ignore the brunette's suspiciously wet eyes.

"Wait, this party isn't going to mess you up with your science club is it?"

The laughter which bubbled up from deep inside Kurt was heartfelt as the brunette smiled widely at the confused looking Finn. There were people in the world that cared about him and that wanted to see him and to have him around.

At that moment had he been asked, Kurt would have willingly walked into the party in his evening mask and footie pyjamas if it meant the people he loved would be there to talk to him.

Whatever Finn had done to the little keypad by the side of the gates had clearly worked as Kurt heard the unmistakable sound of the motorised gates kicking into life. Inching slowly forward, the Pontiac threaded it's way carefully down the twisting tree lined driveway. Kurt couldn't help but gawk,

"Wait... you said that Santana lives here?"

Finn nodded in the affirmative and the truth of the statement was confirmed by the amount of Gleek cars parked out in front - it looked like the start of a Nascar event there were so many cars all parked up in formation.

Finn shut off the engine and the gently lilting song on the radio died away to nothingness as the two boys unbuckled their seat belts. Each climbing from the car, Finn and Kurt stared up at the grand house, both intimidated and impressed by the sheer size and opulence of their surroundings.

'_I bet there's a butler...'; _thought Kurt as they climbed the front steps - all twenty of them - on the way to the front door.

Kurt glanced around suddenly feeling very alone and noticed that Finn had stopped at the bottom of the steps and was staring intently at his cellphone.

"Ummm Kurt?"

Finn's voice was decidedly unsure as the Quarterback's eyes darted between the cellphone in his hands and the boy standing some ten feet away up the front steps.

"Finn?"

Kurt began to descend the steps again as Finn haltingly spoke, coming to a stop in front of his step-brother and looking up into his kind face.

"Rachel just texted me. She - uh - asks if you would mind looking at her tires before you came in and let her know whether she needs to call in a tow."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically at the Quarterback; though the smile never slipped from his face.

"Leave it to Rachel not to know even the basics of vehicle maintenance. Yes, please go inside and let 'La Berry' know that I am doing it now...", grumbled Kurt as he passed off his satchel to the grinning Finn and crunched his way over the gravel drive in the direction of the diva's car, "... never mind that I'll end up getting gravel dust on my uniform and under my nails - and I just had a manicure..."

Kurt could hear Finn's chuckling getting fainter as the Quarterback made his way up the steps as quickly as he could without breaking out into an actual run.

"Wow, he must need to pee or something...", Kurt mumbled to himself as he suddenly wished he'd kept his satchel - and with it his pocket flashlight - as the brunette peered in the gloom at Rachel's car. Tires could mean life or death during a snowy winter, so Kurt took his time examining the treads for signs of too much wear and after a few moments nodded to himself in satisfaction,

"She just needs a little air...", Kurt giggled to himself as a random thought struck him, "... and here I thought Rachel was _always_ full of hot air..."

Pleased with himself and feeling useful again, Kurt made his way up the steps to the front door and pressed the door bell. The brunette felt conspicuous turning up at a party dressed in his school uniform - he might get mistaken for some kind of kiss-o-gram after all - as the door opened from within to reveal an elderly white man dressed in a dark suit. Kurt couldn't help but look a bit confused.

"Um, excuse me Sir, I'm sorry to intrude, but I'm looking for Santana Lopez."

The man smiled, and nodded slightly.

"Of course Mr. Hummel..."

'_He knows who I am?'_; thought Kurt with some surprise.

"Miss Lopez is in the parlour with the rest of your party. I believe they are expecting you presently. If you will kindly follow me?"

The man pivoted sharply on his heels and setting a sedate pace - much like a funeral procession Kurt noted - led the soprano down the obscenely appointed hallway in the direction of an elegant set of double doors.

Gripping both doors, the man flung open both doors at the same time and stepped to the side to allow Kurt to enter.

"Ladies and gentlemen, might I announce into the room, Master Kurt Hummel..."

Kurt blushed a deep fuchsia as he shyly stepped into the room and the gentleman - the Lopez's butler the soprano assumed - retreated silently and closed the doors with a soft click behind him. Other than gentle glow of the fireplace which had burned down mostly to embers, there was no artificial light source in the room. It therefore took a few seconds for Kurt's eyes to adjust leaving the brunette with several seconds where all he could see of his friends were vague - and silent - silhouettes.

"Guys?...", asked Kurt suddenly unsure of himself.

With that utterance, the lights slowly raised to cast a dim glow across the room, and Kurt gasped and raised a hand to cover his mouth in shock.

"I died didn't I?...", said Kurt his eyes darting from person to person as if afraid that they would disappear in a puff of smoke before he could commit them all to memory, "... I died and went to couture heaven."

There in front of him, frozen in a tableau reminiscent of Ralph Lauren ad, sat his friends clad entirely in the most beautiful of designer clothes.

He tried to take it all in at once, but like most great works of art, it was simply too overwhelming. Deciding to take it element by element, he looked at the first person sitting on a small settee in front of him.

"Sweet Holy Prada..."

It was Rachel. Or at least it _looked_ like Rachel - except that the girl's hair had been teased and coiffed and her make-up was smeared _just_ enough to make it look like...well, frankly like someone had forced the girl against a wall and fucked her to within an inch of her life.

'_And Hell if she didn't look primed to have that last inch taken any second...'_

And while Kurt had no desire to be the one fucking Rachel Berry...

'_Crap... there's enough nightmare fodder in that thought to last a lifetime...'_

...Kurt was gay enough to appreciate it when his straight girls looked good. Letting his eyes drift over her, Kurt realised with a start, that Rachel was wearing a creme Cashmere halter dress that the soprano had seen in last month's Vogue. If Kurt's memory served - and when it came to fashion it did - the dress was a part of Chanel's winter collection and was _hideously_ expensive.

Reaching out a shaking hand, almost afraid that the vision would fade away into nothingness if he disturbed it in any way, Kurt's fingers traced the stitching of the oh-so soft fabric. Kurt groaned with an almost orgasmic pleasure as he felt the exquisite fabric under his fingertips.

"Never change, Rachel. This dress needs to be your skin from now on. I mean it!"

Much to her credit as an actress, Rachel stayed frozen in place - but Kurt was sure that he could see the diva's eyes sparkle a little at the praise.

'_She deserves it - she looks fabulous...' _

Stepping around her, Kurt squeezed his eyes closed and opened them again to try to make sense of what he was seeing.

'_Nope... still there...'_

It was Puck.

Puck of all people was lying on the floor with his legs crossed at the ankles and propped up on the wall beside the fireplace.

And he was - he was wearing... he was wearing...clothes...retro military inspired...was the best that Kurt could come up with; the exact brands, cuts, and styles had fled the brunette's mind entirely. Honestly, at that point Kurt would be hard pressed to come up with a coherent answer if someone asked him what his own name was.

It was sacrilege Kurt would realise later to think it - but the clothes didn't really matter. Well, they did, they were hot and were fitted to each of the Gleeks like they had been specially tailored, but it was the accessories that really _made_ the outfit. Puck had a black and silver studded dog collar around his neck, attached to a thick black leather leash. And holding the other end of the leash was Mike - standing there in a shirt held together by nothing more than a single button at his heart and with his amazing abs on display for all to see.

For the first time in his life, Kurt Hummel was truly speechless. Mike was the one in the position of power - the one holding the lead and demanding attention. And yet Kurt found that he just could not tear his eyes away from staring at the half-back - not even for the chance to ogle at Mike's abs.

'_Get a grip Kurt - it's Puck you're drooling over remember...'_

Kurt wanted to look away, he really did, but it was almost as if some indefinable force was making the brunette physically unable to do so. Thankfully whatever force was in control of Kurt's eyes did not have control of his feet, and so Kurt was able to step away from the two boys and from temptation. The temptation to reach out and touch the boys - which even in the brunette's wildest imagination would be considered inappropriate behaviour.

'_Oh God... I've lost this fight already...'_

Kurt refused to think about just how much more he wanted to touch _one _boy than the _other _- or snatch away the leash and make a break for it - the soprano wasn't sure which.

"Wow guys - you all look great. Really...", said Kurt finally tearing his eyes away from the pair of boys to look at the other gleeks.

With his words, the tableau broke and people began to move again. Though the brunette had already said that everyone looked great - it was only once sound and movement returned that Kurt _actually _began to take stock. As the soprano looked around it struck him that everyone _did_ really look good - but why?

There was really only one logical explanation that occurred to Kurt; self-obsessed as it might have been.

"Is this all for me?"

Santana smirked to herself, out of Kurt's line of sight - someone else could answer such an obvious question while she went to fetch the two guitars hidden behind one of the tall curtains.

Santana had been meticulous to ensure that only she and Mercedes had been posed in such a way as to allow them to see Kurt's reaction to Puck - though Aretha wouldn't know it of course, that the entire affair had been planned down to the last detail. All in all, the Latina could not have been more pleased with the soprano's reaction if Santana herself had written the script.

Getting everyone dressed and into place hadn't been cheap or easy - especially when some of the guys had seen what they'd be wearing, or rather, what they _wouldn't_ - but bearing witness to Kurt's complete mind meltdown was worth every cent and every hour spent planning.

* * *

If Rachel were honest; she had been slightly annoyed when everyone had suddenly broken with the plan and started talking and moving. After all, Santana had taken the time to pose her first out of everybody, and in one of the most difficult positions of anyone in the room. If anything, Rachel was annoyed because she could have held the pose for at least another half an hour - possibly more. But then, most kids hadn't been practicing death scenes since they was seven years old.

Standing up, Rachel saw that most everyone else was stretching out their stiff limbs and so ever an opportunist, the Glee club co-captain took hers. Letting out a massive squeal, Rachel hip-checked Artie's chair out of the way - sending the disabled boy on a collision course with the wall - before practically vaulting over a small coffee table to envelope a still shell-shocked Kurt in a crushing hug.

"We missed you so much Kurt! We just wanted to let you know that we were still thinking of you."

'_God he's so thin...'_

Kurt was aware of the words from Rachel but beyond the stars the brunette could see in his eyes from the lack of oxygen to his brain; the soprano wasn't in a position to appreciate it.

"Rachel... need oxygen...", wheezed Kurt before gasping deeply as the crushing pressure on his ribs was relaxed; though not released.

Rachel looked up into Kurt's eyes - the soprano seemed to grow an inch a week these days and now dwarfed the girl. It was damn scary how they all were growing up so fast - well everyone _but_ her - she was destined it seemed to remain her current height for the remainder of her bright and brilliant life.

'_Forever destined to be young Cosette, never older...'_

Despite her almost unmatched self-confidence, Rachel was well aware of her deficiencies - what few she had anyway - and accepted that she wasn't the most emotive person to have walked the face of the Earth. The only exception to the rule was when she was performing of course. She was enough of a '_human being'_ as Finn had so helpfully put it - to realise however that Kurt's composure was slipping. Pulling Kurt down and into another hug, Rachel tucked the boy's face into the crook of her neck as she whispered to him,

"Just a few tears and no one else has to know. I know a great dry cleaner."

Rachel smiled as she heard Kurt giggle and sniffle against her shoulder, and with a final a quick squeeze - and after what was in actuality only a few seconds, yet seemed much longer - Rachel stepped back so the others could hug Kurt.

Suddenly unoccupied, Rachel chanced a glance in the direction of the boys, who rather than get embroiled in the ongoing hugfest surrounding Kurt, had instead chosen to hold back and begun chatting amongst themselves. Catching Finn's eye, Rachel sent the Quarterback a tentative smile for a job well done; plus she now also knew that her tires needed air.

'_Everyone's a winner...'_

Returning her attention to the oestrogen laden huddle in the middle of the room, Rachel noted that everyone was now starting to mill about and lose focus. And that was just not something that she was prepared to accept.

Stepping over to the fireplace, Rachel clapped her hands together as she started to speak in a loud voice.

"OK, everyone settle down..."

"Hey, check out 'she-Schue'...", quipped Quinn and drawing a giggle from the assembled teens.

"Try saying that three times fast...", replied Sam with a grin on his face, "... she-Schue, she-Schue on the Sche-schore... dammit..."

Ignoring the rudeness of her friends at interrupting her, Rachel continued unrelenting in her focus,

"Yes well, thank you Sam...", said blonde waved cheekily in acknowledgment, "... as Glee club Captain..."

"Self-appointed...", coughed Mercedes into her hand while sharing a sly wink with Mike who was trying to stifle the urge to laugh at the increasingly red faced Rachel.

"...I'd like to call this meeting of the Glee club to order."

Most people groaned - that much was a given - but it was Brittany that spoke up, stage whispering to Artie,

"I thought this was supposed to be a party. Did I dream being in Glee already today again?"

Rachel tried to keep a straight face as Artie patted Brittany on the arm and let out a put upon sigh. Being Brittany's boyfriend meant that the wheelchair-bound boy had to field the various Britt-isms that the blonde would come up with - it tended to be a full time job.

"How could we have had Glee, Brittany? Kurt wasn't there...", said Rachel, ignoring the glare from Artie as Brittany would likely miss the subtext and think the girl was being literal.

Brittany, as Artie obviously expected - and dreaded - immediately perked up like an excited puppy.

"I thought so! I've been telling Artie that for like three weeks now!"

Artie levelled his best 'death-ray stare' at Rachel as if to say, 'do you see what you've done now?' Obviously Rachel had inadvertently opened big ole can o' worms in the Abrams/Pierce relationship - still if it got her point across...

Kurt blushed and reached over to squeeze Brit's hand reassuringly while sending Rachel a smile.

"Now if there are no more questions...," Rachel paused a beat for dramatic effect "we have our first two performances of the night."

Puck smirked as Santana handed him his guitar.

"Just can't keep your hands off my instrument huh, Lopez?"

"Only in your dreams Puckerman...", replied the Latina rolling her eyes dismissively, "... only in your sick and twisted dreams..."

It couldn't be overstated enough, just how incredibly pleased Santana was at how everyone looked tonight - even Finn whom the Latina had secretly suspected would struggle with the necktie, the Quarterback wasn't the brightest knife in the box after all - but the crowning gems were without doubt, Puck and Brittany; not that Santana was in any way biased or anything.

'_I only want in one of their pants after all...'_

Santana watched as Puck swung the guitar strap around his neck, and settled down to tune up. The Latina also noticed with no little satisfaction that she wasn't the only one watching as the jock's muscles rippled beneath his wife-beater.

'_Damn, I didn't even know I was that good...'_

Puck started strumming the tune on his acoustic guitar, and immediately the room grew quiet.

'_He really is a strong musician.'_, mused Kurt as he watched the jock's assured fretwork and as the half-back became absorbed in his own playing. Kurt was so absorbed himself that he almost missed Finn's soft entrance.

"_Wish you were here...  
Me, oh, my country man,  
Wish You Were Here...  
I Wish You Were Here...  
Don't you know the snow is getting colder,  
And I miss you like hell...  
And I'm feeling blue..."_

Kurt struggled to maintain his composure.

'_Thank God I wore waterproof mascara...'_

Yeah, his new brother was singing to him, but all of the other guys there were smiling at him and nodding in apparent agreement. Kurt realised, this - this whole night - was about showing him that they loved him, and not about Finn's voice. It was humbling.

Spending several weeks at Dalton, Kurt had started to believe he was nothing and would forever be nothing. But to these people, these few people, his _friends_, Kurt Hummel was special.

"_I miss your laugh, I miss your smile,  
I miss everything about you...  
Every second's like a minute,  
Every minute's like a day  
When you're far away..._

_The snow is getting colder, baby,  
I Wish You Were Here...  
A battlefield of love and fear,  
And I Wish You Were Here...  
I've got feelings for you,  
From the first time I laid my eyes on you..."_

When the song finished, everyone clapped, and that gave Kurt an opportunity to look down, and quickly brush away the lone tear that had escaped to slide down his cheek. Standing, Kurt crossed quickly to give his brother a hug, and he was surprised when Puck stepped in for one as well.  
_  
_Wrapping his arms around the smaller boy, the jock whispered gruffly in Kurt's ear causing an involuntary shiver to pass through the soprano's body,

"Yeah...back where you are suppose to be Hummel."

"Call me Kurt...", said the brunette giggling lightly as he stepped back from the hug, "... and here are _far_ to many ways to take that statement Puck."

"Cool... Kurt...", the larger boy said testing out the name before nodding clearly pleased, "... take it however you want."

Kurt raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the half-back in challenge as he winked saucily,

"Promises, promises, Puckerman..."  
_  
_The three boys moved to take their seats, with Finn ending up sitting in the seat that Rachel had just vacated. That left, Puck and Kurt to squabble over who sat where as both Mercedes and Tina stood to join Rachel, a battle the soprano lost rather spectacularly when Puck literally forced Kurt down into the end seat and then sat right beside him. Completing the set, as it were, Artie rolled himself into position as the three girls arranged themselves in formation. the brunette was very aware that he was sandwiched quite snugly, between a very solid Puck and a very solid arm of the sofa.  
_  
'I will not lust after... ahh screw it...',_ thought Kurt before he sighed and gave into images of Puck, pressing very solid things in some of the brunette's own very solid places.

'_Down Kurt...'_

Kurt was relieved for the distraction when Artie started to play. No one was surprised when Rachel started to sing; taking lead.

"_I wish this could be  
A happy song  
But my happiness disappeared  
The moment you were gone  
Don't think I ever believed that  
This day would come  
Now all I'm feeling  
Is lost and numb..."_

Kurt was surprised at how heartfelt that she sounded - but then realised that of all of the Gleeks, he supposed he was the closest thing Rachel had to a friend - the soprano had never considered how lonely Rachel would be without him around. The other girls joined in to harmonize before Tina stepped forward to sing the second verse - the Asian girl's voice was different in pitch and tone to Rachel's and added an extra edge to the performance - it was an inspired call.

"_And ohhh I know I promised  
Mmmm that I would try  
But I, yes I, miss you  
And it's killing inside_

_I'll always be thankful  
For the time we had  
We were blessed  
I should celebrate_

_But I feel too sad  
All the wonderful memories  
Just make me fall apart  
And it feels like somebody's_

_Stabbed me in my heart  
And ohhh I know I promised  
Mmmm that I wouldn't cry  
But I, yes I, miss you_

_And it's killing inside  
Ooh well I, yes I, miss you  
Want you by my side  
Walking, holding hands_

_Talking, making plans  
Touching my heart my soul..."_

Kurt's friends were considerate enough to ignore the tears that were slipping down his face by the time his best friend stepped up to finish the final verse.

_I wish this could be  
A happy song  
But my happiness disappeared  
The moment you were gone_

_Tell me it's not happening  
Say it's not as it seems  
Tell me that I'm gonna wake up  
It's just a bad dream_

_Please tell me that it's fiction  
Tell me it's just a lie  
Whatever you choose to tell me  
Please say he didn't die_

_And I, yes I, miss you  
And it's killing inside  
Ooh well I, yes I, miss you  
Want you by my side_

_Ooh well I, miss you  
Want you by my side  
Back here by my side  
Here by my side_

When the music faded away, Kurt was on his feet in moments clapping wildly.

"Thank you!...", he whispered, his throat closing up on him as he swallowed, the emotion too much for him, "... you guys have no idea what this means to me after the week I had."

* * *

Santana was the one to reply as she stood and crossed the the far side of the room,

"Oh there's much more to come; for all of us."

Santana grabbed hold of a previously hidden away cord and with a quick pull, the curtains that had until that point been shrouding the doors to the Florida Room, swept open. Gripping the handles to the large double doors, Santana grinned at the curious teens before throwing both doors open wide to reveal a ridiculously opulent display.

The Florida Room was gently lit, with small candles in sconces set up especially for the occasion. At the far end of the room sat a long buffet piled high with tons of snacks and finger food and at the end - drawing most of the _oohs _and _aahs_, Santana noted with some amusement - was a modest open bar. The indoor pool had rose petals strewn over the surface of the water before it it had been covered with a Plexiglas dance floor and Karaoke system with extra large speakers.

The pool lights were on and as the waster gently undulated under the Plexiglas, soft shadows were cast around the room. The sides of the room themselves were cast in shadows with small cabanas set up to offer some privacy to any couple brave enough to close the flaps.

The piece de resistance however, was just outside on a large wooden deck - a large hot tub, big enough for a dozen easy, already bubbling away, steam rising from it into the chilly evening air.

"Sweet..." whispered Finn, putting voice to the collective thought of the assembled teens.

* * *

The group broke apart to explore the room and Rachel found herself wandering alone down a corridor leading out to the rear of the Florida Room and into the most beautiful rose garden the diva had ever seen. Few truly great people bother with regret, and thus it was an emotion that Rachel Berry had long ago decided she would not indulge in. But as she stopped to take in the bouquet of the night blooming roses, Rachel had no choice but to admit to herself; the night would have been better if she were sharing it with Finn.

Hearing movement from behind her, Rachel took a deep steadying breath and tried to combat the growing sense of melancholy - or as Kurt would have put it _ennui_ - within her. Spinning quickly on her three inch heels was no easy feat, however the girl managed it while also plastering a smile onto her face as she greeted Tina who was standing there and looking at the garden in wonder.

"Hi Rachel, having fun?...", asked the Asian girl as she stared up at the moon hanging overhead, "... these Roses are amazing."

"I know...", replied Rachel, "... but I still can't work out how they can be in bloom in the middle of Winter."

Tina shrugged unconcerned as she drew the head of a Rose up to her nose and took a deep sniff,

"I guess money does buy everything... so anyway are you having fun?"

Rachel smiled as she sidled over to a small stone bench and set herself down, being careful not to snag the beautiful fabric of her dress. She and Santana may not have been the best of friends but there was no denying the Latina had taste - it was a _beautiful _dress.

"Sure, why would I be having fun?..."

Tina's raised eyebrow as she sat down beside the girl caused Rachel to wince - there had been slightly too much pep in her hurried response.

"Because of Santana's stunt today in Glee club, I didn't get the chance to compliment your performance. Whilst it was not the best choice for your vocal range, I do think it matched the color and tone of your voice extremely well."

The goth girl smiled at the backhanded compliment and nodded knowing that from Rachel it was as good as praise.

"Yeah, Thanks. Santana and her stunts..." murmured Tina vaguely.

Rachel grabbed the other girl's arm.

"Is some sinister plot going on of which I have not been made aware?...", Tina's jaw dropped open as Rachel continued to speak - had Rachel Berry of all people figured out Santana's masterplan?, "...Am I for all of my incredible talents, no more than some innocent pawn at the hands of Santana Lopez?"

"What?" Tina asked shocked before relaxing as Rachel broke out into a wide smile and started giggling.

'_Oh my God, she was joking...''_

Tina offered the Glee club co-captain a shaky smile as she tried to regain control of her extremities.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, Rachel - no masterplan here don't worry. I was just thinking about the stunt Santana pulled by sleeping with Finn."

At that, Rachel gave a tight smile and excusing herself before her cheerful mask cracked, headed deeper into the gardens and away from the sound of the party.

* * *

While she could freely admit that...the incident...with Puck was not her finest moment, Rachel still hurt that Finn could not forgive her. Even more that that though - she was ashamed that she had hurt Finn.

'_Be honest with yourself Rachel...'_

Rachel grimaced as her conscience came into play and alone as she was, in the silence of the rose garden, there was nothing that she could do to keep it at bay.

Rachel knew that she annoyed most people but she had no idea how to be happy other than to be herself. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried either; once as a child, Rachel had spent three months as Yentel and in another instance after a particularly nasty run in with a school bully, she had spent a week as Holly Golightly.

That was why it hurt so much each time Finn looked at her now. In the past, when Finn had looked at her, he saw Rachel Berry. He saw a girl and not a driven and obsessive diva like everyone else.

Rachel loved him for that.

If she were truly honest with herself, Rachel loved Finn for simply being the decent, kind man he was; the kind man that through her foolish actions had retreated behind a cold mask of indifference.

"Hey..."

Rachel froze before reluctantly turning around. Just for a moment she let herself believe that it was Finn; that he had come to find her to accept her apology; to tell her everything was alright and that they would be together forever.

Still, even before she had turned fully Rachel was losing hope. That was only compounded when she gazed upon the face of Puck who was standing in front of her.

"What do you want?...", asked Rachel - not impolitely just in a way that let the jock know that she was in no mood to chit chit. Either that or be tempted into a compromising position that would hurt Finn again.

"Well, I was sorta hoping that I could apologize...", replied Puck while rubbing his hand over his head, "...I'm - uh... shit I'm sorry Rachel. I messed things up and I didn't mean..."

Puck trailed off and looked plaintively at the silent girl.

Rachel smiled.

"I never dreamed... I - thanks Puck. Really. I appreciate the thought; but as much as I'd like to, I can't blame you for this. You did what I should have done - you stopped and told me what we were doing was wrong. This breakup is something I deserve and have to live with."

Puck offered the girl a shrug - not knowing what to say to make things any better, but at least a little relieved that he'd not gotten his ass kicked.

"I know Finn seems angry right now - and he is...", Puck held up a plaintive hand to stall Rachel's outburst that he wasn't helping, "... but I've known Finn since I was five years old. Finn loves you, like, a lot. But he's hurt right now, and angry and confused - and my boy Finn doesn't do confused very well. Just... just don't give up hope is all I'm sayin' OK?"

From his spot in the shadows, Kurt raised a shocked eyebrow. The brunette had only come out onto the balcony above the rose garden for some air, and in no way had planned to eavesdrop as he had done.

"_When did Puck grow up?"_

"Kurt?"

Kurt jumped at Brittany's slurred yell and taking a final quick glance up at the moon, he headed back inside.

Eventually those who had been wandering the grounds filtered back into the Florida Room one by one and the party started in earnest. The teens danced and sang and danced and sang some more; and after taking advantage of the food and drink that Santana had laid on, it would not be wholly inaccurate to say they were fairly affectionate when all were finally tired out and settled down simply listening to the music playing over the speaker system.

In a moment of unnatural logical thinking, several of the guys had sat themselves back to back and were using each other as backrests, while the girls had decided on a less formal, Roman Orgy layout and lay tangled in a pile of limbs with Kurt as the giggling centrepiece.

Sam, who had spent the evening enjoying Santana's 'special punch,' snickered as he peered blearily at the pile of thrashing limbs formerly known as the Glee club girls.

"Hey Fuck... I mean, Puck...", said the blond pointing to the tangled mass of limbs that was in front of him with his cup, and sloshing his drink onto Santana's exposed thigh, "...is there anyone in that pile you _haven't_ at least made out with?"

Almost everyone, with the exception of Finn, laughed at Sam's comment, and Puck himself couldn't refuse the opportunity to make the boy suffer a little bit.

Lifting an eyebrow, Puck looked Sam up and down and smirked as the boy squirmed under the attention.

"Why?...", asked the half-back winking lasciviously at Sam, before cutting his eyes over to the watching Santana to ensure she was listening, "... you want some of this, Blondie?"

Once again, everyone but Finn laughed, and Tina took the opportunity to put her hand in the air.

"Uh, I've never had me any of the Puckasaurus...," she giggled and looked over at Mike, "...D-Does that earn me some sort of prize?"

"Sure, come over here and unwrap it...", grinned Puck opening his arms to the Asian girl.

"Cockblock Ban!...", sing-songed Mercedes from where she was lying on the ground between Tina and Kurt, "... no boys touching no girls."

"What about me?", asked Kurt as the brunette prodded Mercedes in the breast and earned himself a playful growl, "... I'm touching you now..."

"You don't count boo...", said Mercedes, slapping Kurt's questing hands away and giggling at the soprano's hurt expression, "... you're one of the girls..."

"But... but... I have a penis!"

"And I'm sure it's very nice...", reassured Mercedes patting the soprano on the head like a small child.

"Plus, hey!...", protested Mike, ignoring the pout on Kurt's face at being so easily dismissed by his BFF, "... that's my girl you're talking about, Puck."

"When has _that _ever stopped Puck before?"

The words had left Finn's mouth before the Quarterback had realised he'd put voice to them, and in one fell swoop, the feelgood factor that had been carrying the party along quite nicely, crashed and burned.

* * *

Santana leaned up on one elbow and slid her leg in such a way that it was pressed up against Brittany.

Refusing to let the jock's - fairly bitchy - comment destroy the mojo she had worked so hard to cultivate all evening, Santana smirked and stage whispered to Sam,

"I guess, if Kurt's one of the girls...", the Latina ignored the soprano flicking her off crudely, "... I guess that would make Kurt the only Cheerio that Puck hasn't had. What a way to break Puckerman's perfect streak..."

"Yes well, rest assured that I will keep on destroying his perfect streak...", Kurt answered while rolling his eyes.

Waggling her eyebrows tauntingly at the mohawked jock - who looked less than impressed; by her comments or Kurt's the Latina wasn't sure - Santana continued undeterred, "... But then, even if we added a hundred new Cheerios to the roster, with the current embargo, Kurt would still be the only way Puck will get any play for a looong time..."

Deciding to try to clear something up that had been niggling at him for most of the evening, Kurt spoke up,

"Yeah, you mentioned that earlier too - what is this ban thi-flumph..."

Kurt had intended to end his sentence with the word 'thingie'; as grammatically incorrect as it might have been; instead the brunette found himself unable to say anything as a pair of lips made contact with his own. There was silence for several seconds before Brittany's confused question,

"Flumph?"

The blonde, who had been sharing a private joke with Quinn turned, only to giggle at Kurt's wide eyed look, just a split-second before the soprano's eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft moan.

The only solace to be found was that, soft as they were, Puck's lips were closed and there was no pressure from the jock to deepen the kiss at all. It was simply a warm, and rather pleasant, warmth against the soprano's lips. No hotter then the Nurse putting her hand on his forehead a few days ago, right?

And it wasn't as if it was a real kiss. For some reason Kurt seemed to be collecting these almost kisses though, first Karofsky and now Puck.

Then the girls; Kurt assumed it was Rachel, Santana and Brittany; started screaming, and some masculine chuckles from the on looking boys joined them.

And apparently, spurred on by the attention of their audience, Puck decided to ham it up; while Kurt simply died.

Puck shifted slightly, and brought his hand up to the smaller boy's face. The pad of the jock's thumb traced the line of the brunette's jaw, and for a moment Kurt felt Puck smirking against his lips. Then, Puck's tongue darted out, and traced the line of Kurt's lower lip. When Kurt gasped, Puck pressed forward, exploring the younger boy's mouth.

The kiss, now a toe curling real kiss, was over far before Kurt deemed acceptable. Stars exploded behind Kurt's eyes and instead of being concerned about not having been able to end his sentence, the brunette was suddenly struggling to remain conscious. And when Puck pulled back to resounding laughs and catcalls and sound flooded back to Kurt's ears, the soprano blushed deeply, unable to look anyone in the eye.

"Dude!...", yelled Finn as he jumped to his feet, and menacingly loomed over his former friend. "...That's my brother! I run out of girlfriends so you have to move on to my family?"

"Chill Hudson and get some perspective! I'm a stud and it's just a kiss...", Puck muttered shrugging as if kissing a guy was a completely everyday occurrence for the jock, "... besides, I don't see Kurt complaining any."

Kurt meanwhile was sitting in a daze, a happy smile on his face and his fingers pressed to his lips as if he could still feel the tingling.

"What? Yeah, no...", stuttered Kurt shaking himself out of his stupor, "... I'm fine Finn, just a kiss, no biggie.

Kurt was relieved to see that Finn took him at his word and rather than attempt to break Puck's face, instead stalked off in the direction of the nearest exit to the rose garden.

"Next time though, Puckerman, give a girl a little warning...", said Kurt still flushed and panting and rooting around in his bag for his compact.

"See I told you, you were one of the girls!", crowed Mercedes - Kurt however had slipped back into his own thoughts and the comment slipped by unnoticed.

_'Next time?' _

However, the mood of the even was truly broken at at that point. People started wandering around finding places to camp out for the evening. Santana just glared at the back of the retreating Quarterback as she silently vowed.

'_Even if the ban is rescinded, I'll make sure Finn Hudson never has use for his cock again...' _

* * *

**A/N:** **Song credits are "Wish You Were Here" by Blackmore's Night and "Missing You" by Jem.**

**Thanks for reading and ****PLEASE REVIEW!**


	6. Puck's Adventures in Pastryland

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen. From now on I'll be back in classes so I'll keep writing but my updates might not be so regular. Please don't shed no tears! XD**

**Anyways, please enjoy this latest chapter.**

**Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

**Chapter Six: Puck's Adventures in Pastryland**

* * *

Kurt ever since he'd been little, had always early to rise in the morning. And so when the sun slowly crept above the horizon and began to stream in through the window of the guest bedroom the brunette had commandeered for the night, Kurt was wide awake and ready to begin his day.

Well. Almost ready.

Kurt cursed Finn silently at dragging him to Santana's and not at least giving him enough warning that he'd have to pack an overnight bag. It wouldn't have been so had if he had been dragged off to see his Dad and Carole; at least there Kurt maintained a continuous supply of his skincare products just in case. Quickly hopping out of bed, clad in nothing more than his boxer shorts; because again - Finn hadn't given him enough warning to pack a bag - Kurt snuck out of his room and into the hallway.

One good thing at least, about being up at the crack of dawn - or 'up with the cock' as Mercedes always said, though the brunette didn't find it quite as uproariously funny as the black girl did - was that in situations exactly like this, with Kurt padding down random hallways in nothing more than his boxer shorts he was exceedingly unlikely to run into anyone.

Reaching an ornate gold gilded set of double doors leading to what Kurt assumed must be the Master bedroom - or at least _one_ of the Master bedrooms, Santana's home was palatial - Kurt tentatively tried the handle and smiled widely when the door opened smoothly in front of him. To say that the room was opulently decorated would be to say that Buckingham Palace was a 'little bit fancy'. From the antique Chesterfield sitting in front of the large marble surround log fire; on through to the huge four poster set on a dais by the large bank of floor to ceiling windows; there was absolutely no furnishing that Kurt himself would not have gladly decorated his own home with.

For the moment however decorating tips were not the focus of Kurt's attention as the brunette quickly crossed the expansive room, sighing at the exquisitely soft rug beneath his bare feet and entered the en-suite bathroom.

The bathroom was huge; even bigger than the huge bedroom; which was really saying something.

Kurt had seen Mrs Lopez in various society pages in the Lima Gazette and so he knew that Santana's Mother kept herself in pristine condition. And as was always the case where there was an impeccably presented older woman; there was always a hidden treasure trove of beauty products just waiting to be plundered.

Throwing open a cabinet by the large vanity Kurt grinned at seeing all of his own products - those from his life prior to Dalton that was - all lined up in perfect order for easy application.

'_Mrs Lopez won't mind if I use just a little...'_

Seating himself at the vanity, Kurt checked the small clock on the wall and satisfied that he still had at least an hour or two before any of the other Gleeks would wake, Kurt set to work.

* * *

Finished with his skincare and having redressed - albeit reluctantly in his school uniform from the day before - Kurt wandered downstairs, in an attempt to find the kitchen - and with it, breakfast.

"Good morning, Master Hummel..."

Kurt's shoulders instinctively tensed and his stomach dropped as the soprano turned on the spot. Instinctively ready to duck his head meekly and apologise for whatever uniform infraction he had committed; Kurt was shocked not to see Dr Dimples; with his damnable perfect white teeth and movie star good looks; but rather the same butler that had escorted him to the party the night before.

"Uh - hey...", Kurt cleared his throat embarrassed before replying more formally, "... I mean, good morning, Sir."

'_Way to go Kurt... make an ass of yourself in front of Mr Belvedere...'_

The only external clue to the butler's amusement at Kurt's discombobulation was a slight twitch of an eyebrow.

"Breakfast is being served on the terrace, Master Hummel. If you would follow me?"

Kurt gulped and nodded; his throat suddenly dry as he traipsed after the butler out through the french doors and onto a terrace overlooking a lily pond.

Kurt had fully expected to be the only person awake given the early hour; but as the soprano followed the scent of fresh bread over to a trestle table with a buffet breakfast laid out; he was shocked to see Puck already seated and nibbling experimentally at a croissant as if it would turn round and bite him.

Fixing his own plate with some Churros and chocolate; something Kurt had never tried but was curious to do so; the brunette pulled out the chair opposite the jock and sat down.

"It's just bread Puck, it's not going to bite you back...", giggled Kurt as the half-back continued to look warily at the pastry on his plate.

Puck grumbled and stabbed at the pastry with a knife as if checking that the buttery pastry was truly dead,

"It's stupid is what it is..."

"It's just a croissant...", maintained Kurt, tearing off a piece of Churros and dipping it into his chocolate, "... here try this then..."

Kurt didn't know what made him do it - what evil fairy had taken temporary control of his senses and made him do something to - so _suicidal_.

'_He's going to kill me... my life is over...'_

"Mppph...", said Puck as he tried to chew around the large lump of Churros and chocolate that had been unceremoniously stuffed into his mouth by the soprano.

Swallowing the jock's expression was a mix of enjoyment of having eaten the Churros and liked it; and exasperation for Kurt thinking it was alright to start hand feeding him.

"Jeez... it was one kiss Hummel - don't go getting all domesticated on me!"

Kurt sighed with relief seeing the teasing smile on Puck's face.

'_Wait... teasing smile? What the Hell's going on?'_

And then in an instant, the comment sank in and Kurt's appetite disappeared.

'_The kiss... last night...' _

"Y'know, though...", said Puck reaching over and pilfering Kurt's plate for some more Churros and ignoring the offended look on the soprano's face, "... you should be honoured in a way. You're first kiss and it's with Puckzilla; they should commemorate the occasion with a national holiday or something..."

"It wasn't... my first giss... I mean, _kiss_..." said Kurt hesitatingly fumbling over his words.

It appeared also, that once the brunette had started, the floodgates had opened and Kurt was unable to prevent himself from rambling still,

"I mean, it was... it was more of a _real_ kiss than the first one but then it wasn't at the same time too, because both were kisses and both were wet and so yeah, no... shutting up now...", Kurt took a bite of his Churro just to have something in his mouth to help him shut up.

"What?" Puck asked slightly offended at Kurt's lack of suitable fawning over the jock being his first, "... Let me guess, one of those Dalton douche bags went all Mack daddy on your ass before the Puckzilla arrived?"

"I wish, I mean - dammit! No!", blurted Kurt suddenly no longer in control of his own tongue and blushing prominently, "I was still at...never-mind. I can't talk about it"

"OK, keep your secrets... it's not like it changes the fact that no matter who tapped your ass first...", the jock ignored Kurt's sudden spluttering and coughing, "... no matter what, Puckzilla will always be better."

"Well, it wasn't much of a competition..." Kurt grumbled as he stabbed at the little bowl of chocolate with the end of his Churros. "... Anyway, how has school been since I've been gone?" asked Kurt desperately trying to change the subject.

"Lame."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the monosyllabic response, which though not unexpected wasn't exactly helpful.

"Care to vague that up for me?...", prompted Kurt with a soft-glare.

Puck shrugged unconcerned and tossed the soprano a surprisingly genuine expression.

"You need to come back dude. It totally blows having my boy gone."

Kurt could feel the heat on his face and it took most of Kurt's willpower not to reach out to the jock to commiserate as Puck truly looked dejected. However, the brunette was just too surprised by the heartfelt emotion in Puck's words to really react.

"Ummm, thanks I guess...", whispered Kurt his throat suspiciously lump-filled with emotion.

"No sweat, Hummel..." Puck answered as the jock shook himself out of his dejected musings, "... anyways, how is Dalton? Established yourself as leader of the pod people yet?"

Kurt giggled at the thought of his lording it over the whole of the Dalton population as their leader before the smile dropped from his face. There was no way that Kurt would _ever_ be the leader of anything at Dalton - he'd be lucky just not to flunk out of all of his classes.

Kurt jumped as he felt a large, warm hand come to rest on the back of his own which had, the brunette noticed to his chagrin, been schmushing his remaining Churros into a fine paste.

"Easy Hummel, you'll break a nail...", quipped Puck trying to lighten the mood, "... so you still wanna keep secrets or are you ready to talk?"

Kurt considered the question carefully - could he really bare his soul to Puck of all people? Could he tell Puck how lonely he was at Dalton? How he was struggling in almost _all_ of his classes? How he felt like a complete failure? How he was letting his Dad and Carole down after they had sacrificed their own honeymoon for his happiness?

"Alright - clearly you don't want to..."

Kurt realised that he'd been sitting in silence for what must have been a couple of minutes whilst having his internal debate, and that in that time Puck had obviously decided that the soprano wasn't going to be opening up to him and had stood clearly intent on leaving.

"No..., said Kurt hurriedly getting to his feet and reaching out an arm, snagging the jock's wrist before he could walk away, "... I'm sorry, I drifted off. I'd like to talk about it but - raincheck?"

Kurt looked up into Puck's face expecting to see an expression of derision. What he saw however shocked the soprano to his core; what he saw was calm acceptance.

'_Maybe Puck really has grown up...'_

"Hey!.."

Kurt looked up into Puck's smirking face and realised that he must have spoken aloud and that rather than beat him up, which in times done by would have been Puck's go to move, the jock was instead teasing him. It was surreal. But not unpleasant.

"I happen to be erudite and witty, Hummel..."

Kurt raised a single eyebrow in surprise at the jock causing him to run out of steam and look at Kurt in confusion,

"What?"

"Erudite?"

Kurt smirking teasingly at the suddenly bashful looking jock. The soprano didn't know what it was, whether it was the text message, or the video, or even the _kiss_, but Kurt was beginning to really enjoy spending time alone with Puck.

"What... I read!...", Kurt threw a hand up over his mouth to stifle his giggles at the expression on Puck's face, "... oh alright, I had a word-a-day calendar OK?"

Kurt fought against the urge to break down in guffaws of laughter as Puck blushed to the roots of his hair in embarrassment.

"Don't worry Noah...", the brunette said, trying out the jock's first name to see how it felt and ignoring the questioning raised eyebrow, "... if all else fails I'm sure your bedroom prowess will carry you through..."

"Damn straight...", said Puck with an expression of utter self-confidence.

* * *

The easy banter between the pair was interrupted a moment later by the arrival onto the terrace of a still groggy Sam, who ignoring everyone and everything around him, shuffled towards them wrapped up in a loosely belted plush white cotton robe and little else.

Kurt's eyes tracked the blonde as Sam traipsed sleepily over to the buffet and as if on autopilot, poured himself a bowl of cereal. Adding milk and picking up a spoon, the blonde slumped down in a chair at the end of the table and began to mechanically shovel cereal into his mouth, chewing noisily.

Kurt realised with some shock that in the process of having sat down, the tie on Sam's robe had come undone and the blonde was now unwittingly granting the brunette a free show of _everything_ that he had to be proud of.

_'And he has a lot to be proud of... Quinn is one lucky bitch...'_

"Um... Sam?...", said Kurt doing his best to maintain higher brain function and still warn his obviously hung - and hungover - friend about what was going on.

Still, even with living full-time at an all boys school now, it was rare for Kurt to get a live and in person show like this and so he was determined to take advantage.

_'If Sam never knows then it won't hurt any will it?'_

Sam didn't visibly react to Kurt's voice as he continued munching lethargically on his cereal. Hitching his leg up and propping it on the chair beside him however, Sam ended up turning his morning peep show into a freakin' display.

_'Hell it practically qualifies for a seat of it's own...'_

Then it twitched.

Kurt couldn't help it; he let out a girlish squeak before wincing as Puck's hand which was laying on his shoulder squeezed. A feeling of dread filled Kurt and any blood that wasn't already powering the blush on the brunette's face, rushed there in an instant.

_'Puck... shit...'_

Kurt tensed at the realisation that Puck was watching him - well, _ogle_ was the nicest word Kurt could thing of - his friend and teammate. That had to violate some sort of straight boy code somewhere. This had to spell the end for any friendship that had been starting to form between the two guys.

* * *

Puck hadn't spent a lot of time looking at other dude's junk, the occasional glance in the showers maybe, when he was younger, just to make sure of his superiority - but after the conversation with Santana, the jock decided to take the opportunity presented and try it. After all Sam was presenting himself to the room like some kind of prize on a gameshow, so it wasn't as if Puck went looking to look.

Examining Sam's cock, Puck thought about it for a moment, before he shrugged. Sam's cock wasn't exactly sending him running for the hills, and the half-back figured that if need be he could come up with something fun to do with it. It was just a fleshy tube lets face it.

And then it twitched.

And Puck became interested in Sam's cock all over again, given the similar twitch his own cock had given in response to the blonde jock.

_'Are all blondes that small though?'_

Realising he was now staring, Puck quickly averted his eyes before either of the boys realised he was checking Sam out. The jock needn't have worried really, Sam was still practically comatose and Kurt - well, Kurt couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Sam's crotch.

Puck narrowed his eyes and glared at the oblivious brunette. It didn't matter that Puck wasn't waving his cock all around in Kurt's face. It should still have been the case that if someone with a sex drive was in the room, their eyes should be fixed firmly on him - it was the natural order of things.

Noah Puckerman was made to be appreciated dammit and would not be upstaged by some blonde's unimpressive cock. Puck also didn't like the fact that Kurt appeared to have slipped into a relationship with Sam's cock akin to a snake and it's charmer. The thought of Kurt looking at Sam did funny things to the half-back's gut - it felt sorta like gas.

_'Stupid Churros...'_

Leaning down behind the soprano, Puck made sure that his breath ghosted across Kurt's ear as he spoke, loudly enough to shock Sam out of his morning daze,

"How's it hanging Evans?...", Puck revelled in the squeak of surprise that he was able to draw from Kurt, "... Oh never mind, y'know I always figured you'd be more of a short and to the left kinda guy..."

Puck broke down laughing a moment later as Sam's horrified eyes popped open wide, and the blonde jock realised where he was.

"Shit...", screamed Sam as he hurriedly tried to get to his feet, trying to pull the robe tighter around himself and only succeeded in spilling his half-full bowl of cereal into his lap, "... I'm not at home..."

Puck smirked as he heard Kurt's giggle and decided he'd have a little fun at the blonde's expense,

"You give your Mom a show like that every morning Evans? Want me to come round and show her what a real cock looks like sometime?"

Puck reached for his belt buckle before stopping in shock as he felt a smaller hand, grab his own - Kurt's hand - which was now pressed up against Puckzilla through the jock's jeans.

Puckzilla twitched.

Kurt's hand disappeared and a blush appeared on the brunette's face before Kurt collected himself and cleared his throat, addressing both boys.

"Now now boys, let's not get into a python measuring contest shall we?"

Puck snorted,

"Python?"

_'He honestly thinks that was a python?'_

Kurt glared Puck into silence which the half-back reluctantly allowed; for the moment.

"I'm uh... just going to get dressed...", mumbled a mortified looking Sam who could not meet either of the other boys eyes.

Puck chuckled as Sam beat a hasty retreat, disappearing back into the main house just at the exact moment that Rachel came tearing out screaming at the top of her lungs,

"YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE FINN HUDSON!"

Puck ignored the oncoming storm and returned to his seat. After all this argument had barely anything to do with him and the jock hadn't yet found a breakfast food to satisfy his hunger - and picked up another one of those 'kwasson' things from the platter in front of him.

"I'M IMPOSSIBLE? YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE!", cried Finn bursting from the main building in hot pursuit of the brunette girl and stumbling his way up the steps to the terrace.

Puck looked up as the chair beside him scraped on the decking, giving Kurt a small smile and offered the brunette some of his pastry as he sat down. Both boys rolled their eyes at the dramatics and settled in, sharing the same breakfast pastry, to watch the fireworks.

"I'M IMPOSSIBLE?", shouted Rachel stepping up into Finn's face - well up to Finn's chest and then looking up.

"YES AND DEAF TOO APPARENTLY; I SAID THAT ALREADY!", screamed Finn, spittle flying from his mouth as he stood toe to toe with the diminutive Rachel.

Puck leaned over into Kurt's personal space and muttered into the soprano's ear,

"I don't think Rachel's going to be the only one walking away from this deaf..."

* * *

Kurt giggled into his hand and tried to ignore the warm feeling from being in such close proximity to the jock - if the brunette closed his eyes he could imagine Puck wrapping his arm over his shoulders and pulling him in against his side.

_'Get a grip Kurt...'_

"I SAID I WAS SORRY; WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?", screamed Rachel

Kurt shook himself from his Puck induced daydream and focused on the arguing pair. Rachel was all up in Finn's personal space, the smaller girl drilling her finger into one of Finn's pecs to punctuate each of her utterances. Finn was usually laid back almost to the point of being unconscious, so Kurt was becoming more and more concerned for his step-brother the more the Quarterback's face moved along the colour chart towards puce.

_'I'd better get him out of here... besides I need a ride back to school...'_

"I WANT YOU TO GET OUT OF MY FACE ALL OF THE TIME!"

Kurt quickly got to his feet, laying a hand on Puck's shoulder,

"I think it's time someone broke up this little marital dispute, text me later?"

The soprano didn't wait for a response from the half-back who was still munching on his pastry while watching the argument with amusement sparking in his eyes, Kurt crossed to stand between the two raging teens.

The noise of the argument had clearly echoed sufficiently through the large house so as to wake all of the other occupants, as Kurt saw Santana, Brittany, Tina, Artie, Mercedes, Mike and a rather red faced Quinn, all standing at the bay doors leading from the main house and watching on in rapt fascination.

"Mommy...", said Kurt in a sickly sweet childish voice addressing Rachel before turning to face Kurt, "...Daddy... enough with the fighting..."

Rachel was clearly spoiling for a fight however as she snapped at Kurt,

"Butt out Kurt, this has nothing to do with you."

Kurt turned his best, pants wetting glare on Rachel and was pleased as the girl stuttered slightly and began to steadily deflate. The brunette turned back to face Finn who was alternately clenching and unclenching his large hands and Kurt could quite imagine that the Quarterback was picturing slamming his fists into something _hard_.

_'Here's hoping it's not me...'_

"Finn... I need a ride. Get yourself some breakfast and lets go."

Finn looked down into Kurt's steady gaze before taking a deep breath, his shoulders sagging.

"OK..."

"Hey dude, try one of these kwasson things, they're awesome!...", called Puck from his seat.

Kurt rolled his eyes as he called over his shoulder without turning round,

"It's pronounced croissant Puck, what happened to you being all erudite?"

All eyes turned to examine the suddenly speechless and squirming half-back as Kurt grabbed up a Danish for Finn and latched onto his step-brother's arm.

"Right - you can eat this on the way - thanks for a wonderful party Santana..."

* * *

As Santana pulled into the parking lot at Breadstix later that evening, she had reached a decision.

As far as her plan went, Finn was done. The Quarterback was just too divisive and Santana risked the complete collapse of her plan were she to continue to try to force the jock back with Rachel.

Finn would just have to have his dick turn black and fall off before it ever got near another girl again.

'_It's not like Finn had much to shout about anyways... I barely felt him before it was over...'_

Switching off the engine, Santana checked her ponytail in the rear-view before she hopped out of her car.

Santana arrived late to her lunch with Tina on purpose. Asian Vampire Girl may hold all the mysterious cards, but it was important that the Latina prove to both of them that she was the one in charge.

Rolling her eyes at the hostess, Santana ignored the simpering moron trailing her and protesting that she had to wait to be seated, and stalked through the restaurant until she found Tina seated in a back booth by herself.

Shrugging off her coat, Santana launched it at the hostess; who to her credit caught it out of reflex as the Latina spoke dismissively over her shoulder,

"Ice water... and no skimping on the ice..."

"I'm surprised you choose this place..,", said Santana as she slid into the booth, "...aren't your people afraid of garlic?"

Tina simply lifted an eyebrow, before grabbing a bread stick out of the basket between the two girls and tearing it in half.

"I'm going to assume that was one of your usual cracks about my being a Vampire and not about my being Asian; as that'd be racist..."

The Latina rolled her eyes as she picked up a bread stick and her ice water was delivered to the table. It was important that Santana play this exactly right; one mis-step; one false move and the entire house of cards could come tumbling down.

It was for that reason that Santana remained silent; a silence which dragged on for several minutes before Tina finally cracked under the pressure.

"So, what's you angle Santana?...", the Latina raised a single eyebrow at the question as she dipped one end of the bread into the bowl of red sauce, "...I mean, I get that you're trying to break up Mike and I. I also get that you also want me to find comfort in Artie's arms, so that you can be there to get with Brittany again..."

Santana was impressed; Tina knew more than even the Latina had dared imagine.

"But... the one bit in all of this that I don't get - is Kurt and Puck..."

Santana remained still as she could for a moment. This was a fishing expedition after all and it wouldn't do to give AVP too much too soon - if she decided to give her anything at all.

"I really have no idea what is going on in that twist...mumph" Santana coughed around the bread-stick that was quickly shoved in her mouth.

"Don't lie to me Lopez." Tina said shaking her head sadly. "I was the shy quiet girl for way too long not to notice what's going on around me. Now," she said brightening her tone, and templeing her fingers, "try again, and this time assume that I'm smarter than a brick - or Finn."

"What can I give you?" santana asked wiping sauce off her cheek. "Is this blackmail? You can't prove anything!" She whispered harshly leaning closer to the other girl.

"No, but people will believe me because I'm not a bitch know for destroying people lives. Now. Tell. Me."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I don't loose, and I like having Hummel around. I know any teen boy will always chase getting off, so there."

"Ok, I"m in." said Tina smirking, settling back into the booth.

"I don't care...what?"

I said I'm in." Tina said shrugging. "My relationship with Mike is over even if we are fighting against it, and I just miss Artie. You want your ex, and I want mine, so I'm in. Plus," she said with a small smile, "I miss Kurt, and if you think Puck is gay enough to make out with my friend then I say we go for it. I mean, the boy needs an ego boost. A real one- not just his diva facade."

"So we are working together?" The Latina asked?

"Looks like it."

"Then there are some things I need to tell you..."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. As I said, I'm back in classes now so updates may become less frequent - rest assured however that both I and James are fully committed to the story and that there will be future instalments.**

**PLEASE REVIEW  
**


	7. Dick's Leftovers

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen.**

**Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

**Chapter Seven: Dick's Leftovers**

* * *

Almost a week had gone by before Tina felt that the moment was right to move into the next stage in "the plan". The Asian girl had no idea why Santana had to be so damn melodramatic all the time. But the Latina had insisted on doing stupid air-quotes every time she mentioned "the plan" and so it was now firmly entrenched in Tina's mind too.

Tina shook her head still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was walking down the hallway shoulder-to-shoulder, both physically and metaphorically, with the school bitch Santana Lopez. If anyone had asked the Asian girl even just 48 hours earlier whether she'd be voluntarily working with Santana on _anything_ she'd have drop kicked them in the head for just daring to be so stupid.

The only consolation Tina could find for having voluntarily stepped into the ninth circle of Hell - which was where Santana lived of course - was the knowledge that the Cheerio was going to put her plan into motion whether the Asian girl was there or not. At least this way; God, dare she say it, by _befriending_ Santana; Tina could at least be there to fend off some of her more crazy ideas.

Take for instance, Santana's sudden interest of late in finding a plausible way to separate Finn from his penis and to make it look like an accident. That was just twisted; there was no other word for it.

'_...the bitch needs help...'_

Reaching an intersection, Tina nodded goodbye as Santana peeled off in order to head the opposite direction towards Coach Sylvester's office. Spotting Mercedes digging around in her locker, the Asian girl sauntered up behind Mercedes and waited for her to finish loading up her bag. Before the black girl's locker door had even slammed shut, Tina had snagged her arm causing Mercedes to squeak in surprise; only becoming aware of Tina's presence at that precise moment.

"We have to talk..." stage-whispered Tina quickly as she half-steered, half-dragged Mercedes off in the direction of the nearest bathroom. The Asian girl ignored the look of concern thrown her way by the black girl.

"Oh Hell...", muttered 'cedes catching a glimpse of Santana sketching a final goodbye salute in Tina's direction before she disappeared out of sight around a corner, "...what did our friendly neighbourhood sociopath do now?"

"It's not that...", said Tina as she led her friend into the girl's bathroom and began checking each stall systematically to ensure they were alone.

In the hallway, the girls could hear the bell ringing signifying that classes were beginning, but by this point in their school careers, the teachers' at WMHS had come to expect the Gleeks to wander late into class. There's an art to a successful de-slushieing and getting it absolutely right takes time. Knowing this the Glee girls had started to take advantage of the lax monitoring of their tardiness to have small conversations between classes - or to ditch entirely.

Leaning against the bank of mirrors; Mercedes waited for Tina to finish her sweep and get to the point. Crossing her arms over her substantial chest, the black girl tapped a staccato rhythm on the floor tile with the toe of her shoe in her impatience.

"What's the matter with you today, Tiny?"

Tina turned to level Mercedes with a glare at the use of her unappreciated nickname; she was perfectly tall for her height thank you very much; and her expression seemed to communicate that very thought quite effectively. Mercedes however just raised a single eyebrow, not intimidated by having incurred the Asian girl's ire in the slightest.

Tina crossed to the bank of sinks before hopping up onto the worktop and drawing her legs up to her chest. Mercedes superior smirk dropped from her face realising that whatever was eating at her friend, it was certainly something important to Tina.

Mercedes ceased her tapping on the floor tile and waited in silence for Tina to get whatever it was she had to say off of her chest.

"I think I'm going to break up with Mike...", mumbled Tina, her voice almost so soft that it didn't carry to the black girl.

Mercedes jaw dropped open in shock as Tina quickly looked down and away unable to look the black girl in the eye. This was harder then the Asian girl thought it would be and her heart ached at finally putting voice to the decision she had reached some time ago.

Daring to look up - mostly in fear as Mercedes had yet to explode in anger - Tina was stunned into silence by the expression on her friend's face. Mercedes looked so supportive and hurt on her behalf while still managing to looks surprised and indignant.

Telling Mercedes about her intentions was always going to be a sticky subject - Mercedes and Mike had been friends from Kindergarten; thrown together as the only two non-white kids in their class. Though they had perhaps let things drift a little as they had gotten older; each choosing their own social circles; neither had forgotten that they were each other's first friend. The bond was still strong between them and the Asian girl had been worried that Mercedes would hate her for wanting to break up with Mike.

Tina continued to talk, hugging her legs closer to her chest as she betrayed her own nervousness by beginning to rock back and forward.

"... I was uh - really hoping you could be there for him when it happens. I mean Mike doesn't really have any friends the really get the whole _emotion _thing. They'd probably just tell him to suck it up and get over it; and that's not good advice. You know how sensitive Mike can be..."

"But... I don't... you were...", Mercedes shock was clear to hear in her tone of voice as she spluttered her way through her reply. Tina cringed and seemed to shrink in on herself causing Mercedes to snap her mouth shut with an audible click and compose her thoughts.

A few seconds of silence passed in the empty bathroom as the black girl considered her possible responses. In the end she settled on responding with humour; both Tina and Mike where her friends, so she couldn't pick one over the other. She'd support both of them equally when the time came.

"OK...but why in the blue blazes would you break up with suck a fine set of abs? And yes Mike and I have known each other for a long time but why would I be the person that he would want to spill his guts to?"

"Well...," sighed Tina unable to stop her lip from twitching at the jibe about Mike's abs, "... I don't want him to hurt alone. I know that if left to his own devices Mike would just bottle it all up and its not healthy. I mean can you imagine Puck and Finn trying to sympathise with him? Two of the most emotionally stunted people I've ever met in my life..."

Tina looked up, the plea clear in her eyes for Mercedes to help her and to accede to her request.

"Plus...", said Tina reaching out and grabbing Mercedes' hand in her own, "... you two have been friends forever, you know his moods, how he thinks... I just know that you can help him get over this."

'_In more ways than one..._"

Mercedes seemed unsure of what to do, but the earnest expression on Tina's face finally broke through the girl's reservations about favouring one friend over another.

"OK, I'll buy that...", said Mercedes, agreeing to Tina's request and squeezing the girl's hand in support, "... but don't for a minute think I'm overlooking the fact that you still have not told me why you are doing this girl; or that you didn't answer my question about Mike's incredible Asian-abs."

Mention of the term 'Asian' sparked an inferno of rebellion in Tina as months of bottled up frustration finally bubbled to the surface.

"I'm not a super Asian!...", screamed Tina hopping down from the counter and throwing her hands in the air as she paced the floor in agitation, "... it's all that Mike and I have in common other then Glee. I mean, the first part of my last name is Cohen - Jewish for cryin' out loud! And yet, everyone ignores that - even Rachel - another Jew!"

Tina's pacing seemed to slow as the fire of her indignation quickly burned itself out, leaving an emotionally exhausted shell of a person behind. Leaning back against the counter, Tina looked to the skies, her eyes burning with sudden tears which the girl refused to allow to fall. Sighing and letting her chin drop to her chest, hiding her face behind a curtain of ebony hair, Tina spoke softly once again.

"I'm just so tired of stupid Asian kisses. Just once I'd like to go to the movies and not see an Asian film. Just once I'd like to do something on a Saturday night that doesn't involve a family get together and endless drunk uncles with wandering hands. Just once, I want...", Tina's voice faded away as she realised what she was about to admit to, "... I want to be seen as more than that."

A single tear escaped from Tina's iron grip to track down her cheek and splash onto the floor tiles at the exact moment that Mercedes pulled the Asian girl towards her and into a crushing embrace.

"It's OK honey...", murmured Mercedes into Tina's ear as the girl tried to regain her composure, "... just do what you need to do. I'll be there to help pick up the pieces."

Tina smiled into Mercedes shoulder through her tears hearing the determination in the black girl's voice,  
"Thank you - you have no idea how much that helps me...", whispered Tina as she pulled back from the embrace to give a watery smile to Mercedes, "... I know Mike will be in good hands."

Checking her watch, Tina wiped at her eyes and mumbled as they headed back out to the now deserted hallway; class being well into session by that point,

"Better get to class I guess - thanks 'cedes..."

"No problem Tiny..."

As she parted from Mercedes to head towards class, Tina smiled. Breakups were never easy - and this one was in some ways harder than all the others as Mike was a truly nice guy - but at least, if she and Santana played their cards right, it might have a happy ending; for all of them.

* * *

'_Hanging out with friends sucks...'_

Kurt scowled as he sat idly in front of the piano in the Warbler's music room. Practice that day had been canceled due to some upper level testing so Kurt didn't even have the 'joys' of Ke$ha to distract him from how utterly lonely he was.

Hanging out with the Gleeks the weekend before had only made Kurt's sense of isolation worse. The brunette knew that it wasn't their intention to make him feel even worse; they had all gone out of their way to make him feel wanted and special; but a part of Kurt that he couldn't control wished that Santana had never dreamed up her party idea.

The past week hadn't improved Kurt's disposition any; his heavily revised paper for Dr Dimples had thankfully squeaked a passing grade, but other than that rather mediocre of high points, the rest of the week had sucked ass.

It had all started to go wrong on Monday evening when Kurt had broken his iPod. The soprano had been returning from the observatory on the top floor after their Astronomy class when he'd been jostled on the wide marble staircase and dropped the precious gadget, left with no option but to watch in horror as his entire music collection bounced down to the Main Foyer spitting chips of broken glass like tear-drops along the way.

'_And another thing, who takes Astronomy anymore? This is Ohio, not Hogwarts!'_

Then, on Tuesday, Kurt had run out of what little moisturiser he had left and ever since had been too busy to obtain more. That was despite having sent pleading messages for a Red Cross package to both his Dad and Carole. And so as a result, the soprano's skin was dry and flaky - or so Kurt was convinced anyway.

By the time Friday had come around, Kurt was tired, depressed and in dire need of a Gaga-fix. And now, his best substitute for lack of Gaga, the Warblers and _Ke$ha_ had been cruelly ripped from under him too.

It was almost easier when Kurt had felt forgotten. Now all the soprano could think about was the fact that he had chosen to abandon his friends. He had taken the easy way out in the face of adversity and that was not a situation Kurt was used to - or would have ever considered accepting in the past.

'_I should have just let Puck form his stupid protection detail...' _

And so his music was gone. Kurt had never realised just how much New Directions functioned as a unit until he had joined the Warblers. With New Directions, everyone was friends with everyone else - despite their differences. But at Dalton, everyone was cloistered into their own little groupings and the ruling council ensured that there was no free exchange of ideas.

It just - it wasn't as _fun_ as New Directions had been.

Still, Kurt thought as he glanced around the empty cavernous room, with it's high ceilings and great acoustics, he alone now, both literally and emotionally. And that meant that they couldn't stop him from singing anything he wanted if they weren't around.

Kurt ran his fingers over the cool keys before him as he absently tapped middle C and considered his choices. What to sing? The soprano had simply been drifting around for so long, unable to make suggestions of choices of his own for so long, that now he didn't know what he wanted anymore.

Closing his eyes and focusing on nothing but the beating of his own heart, Kurt's fingers glided over the keys, pulling a slow and simple melody from the ebony and ivory and layering his soft vocals over the top.

"_A dream is a wish your heart makes  
when you're fast asleep.  
In dreams you will lose your heartache,  
whatever you wish for you keep..."_

Kurt's voice was soft and held a distinct tone of sadness as he sang. When he'd been younger - before his Mom had died - Kurt had watched Cinderella with his Mom every Sunday afternoon and they'd sang along with all of the songs. Kurt hadn't been this lonely since the day after his Mom had passed on - the day he'd realised as an 8 year old that he had lost his best friend. Almost eight years on to the day, Kurt could clearly feel the same stab of loss in the centre of his heart that he'd felt all those years ago.

"_Have faith in your dreams and someday, someday,  
your rainbow will come smiling through.  
No matter how your heart is grieving,  
if you keep on believing  
the dream that you wish will come true..."_

Kurt ducked his head and sighed softly as he lifted his finger off of the final key and the note died away into nothingness.

'_I miss you Mom...'_

* * *

"I love Disney..."

Kurt jumped at the unexpected but familiar voice from behind him.

Craning his head over his shoulder, Kurt smiled softly in greeting to Blaine who was standing in the doorway, his blazer slung over his arm and his tie and top button undone.

"Who doesn't?...", replied Kurt turning back to the piano and playing a few single notes.

Kurt was all too aware of Blaine's presence as the older boy sank down onto the bench beside him, their thighs brushing together in the close proximity. The brunette cursed his over active hormones as his heart began to beat faster and the blood which had been powering his brain suddenly rushed to power his blush.

"Kurt...", Blaine started to say before trailing off into silence.

"...Is fabulous, talented and handsome and I simply find him amazing?", asked Kurt with a nervous chuckle.

"Yeah actually...", agreed Blaine before the usually confident and debonair Warbler glanced down and away in apparent embarrassment.

Quickly, before Kurt could properly react to what was happening, one of Blaine's hand moved to capture the brunette's cheek, and with the other Blaine entwined his finger's with Kurt's. The two boys eyes met, one hopeful, one shocked, as Blaine lowered his head towards Kurt steadily until his soft lips pressed against Kurt's firmer ones.

It was almost like someone had been listening to his hopes and dreams and had decided to answer them, thought Kurt as he sighed into the kiss. The soprano smiled as a surprisingly strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer and flush against Blaine's frame. Automatically, without any consideration, Kurt's arms came up to wrap themselves around Blaine's neck, his hands twisting in the hair at the base of the Warbler's neck as the smaller boy pressed himself into the warmth that was being offered to him.

This was perfect and exactly as Kurt had dreamed that his first kiss with a boy - a boy he liked - would be. Except...

"What about Dick?...", asked Kurt as he pulled back to catch his breath, a healthy glow now suffusing his rosy cheeks.

"Awesome, we can take this further. I mean, if you want...", answered Blaine answered grinning down at the soprano.

"No..." replied Kurt, as his brow furrowed at Blaine's uncharacteristic response, "...Dick. You know, Ricky. The boy you were serenading a few days ago?"

"Oh...", Blaine answered looking down at his hands, "... never mind him, he hooked up with Jeremy. But that means that we can do stuff together."

Kurt's heart dropped and his expression closed off at the same time. For a moment - just a moment - Kurt had felt his wish coming true. That finally, a boy he liked had wanted him back. It was hot and hard and there, but it wasn't real. A lump came to Kurt's throat as he asked a question of Blaine that he knew would not result in a good answer - it couldn't.

"So I'm what - the consolation prize?"

"Kurt, don't be like that...", Kurt was surprised by the stringent, almost condescending tone in Blaine's voice - it was not a tone of voice that the soprano had come to associate with the older boy, "... I know you want me."

Blaine's hands which had remained firmly locked around Kurt's waist began to wander, causing the soprano to have to push himself away and up into a standing position.

Kurt was angry. Really angry - and hurt - he was better than that. He was better than some cheap second prize date because the first prize was won by someone else. He had standards.

Placing a hand on his hip, Kurt levelled his best glare at Blaine and noted that the taller boy paused in launching into an expected entreaty.

"For your information, I might have been attracted to you but I've started seeing someone else."

Kurt crowed internally seeing the flash of jealousy that crossed Blaine's face at the announcement.

'_Now who's the consolation prize!'_

Blaine seemed unable to put form to his words for a few seconds before noticeably swallowing around a lump in his throat.

"...Who?", asked the Warbler, his eyes becoming watery as he looked away from the smaller singer.

'_Who? Ah... crap!'_

"Ummmm...," Kurt replied scrambling for an answer.

Unfortunately, before this bout of temporary insanity that Blaine seemed to be having, Kurt had spent a lot of time talking to the older boy leaving Blane fairly acquainted with the goings on at McKinley High. He couldn't just come up with any name and have Blaine buy it.

"Noah...", he finally blurted out unable to think of a better - and believable - option.

Several seconds passed with Blaine not saying or doing anything as Kurt sat waiting for the Warbler to call him on what; let's face it; was a terrible lie.

"The sex shark...", said Blaine wryly.

Blaine put his hands on his knees before pushing himself to his feet.

"I guess I just waited too long to see what was right in front of me then. I'm sorry Kurt. I'm..."

Shaking his head, Blaine turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance. _

Puck was bored. It seemed like every weekend the same MILFs were calling and asking for threesomes with him and their daughters.

After a while, even that can get old.

Quickly checking both ways, Puck threaded himself between two oncoming cars and across the street. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, the half-back wandered down the sidewalk aimlessly, as he did yet another circle of the block.

'_Insomnia is a bitch...'  
_  
Puck supposed that he should be pissed at Santana; royally pissed. She had after all made him, you know, think about stuff ever since she had called him that night. And Puck hadn't really been able to get his strut back ever since then.

'_Why did Hummel have to be such a damn good kisser?'  
_  
Puck didn't really think of himself as a bad person, but then again, Puck didn't really stop to think about how others perceived him at all.

Rooting around in his pocket, Puck pulled out his cell and stared at the blank screen. Santana had said that they were good at being friends, but Puck didn't even know if that was true. He had fucked up his friendship with Finn...twice, and didn't really have anyone else that he hung out with.

The only people in his life that he hadn't fucked up his relationships with were his Mom and his Sister. Hardly an impressive feat as they literally couldn't get rid of him. It was like, the law or some shit...

Looking down at his phone, Puck thought, 'Just ring. Give me a chance to be something.'

The piece of plastic and silicon remained stubbornly silent.

A sudden fury suddenly overtook the jock as he gripped the cell in the palm of his hand, and channelling the best of Finn Hudson, the jock screamed.

"Fuck you!..."

The small cell flew threw the air, spinning end over end for what felt like ages before it landed in some bushes about fifty yards away.

Then, of course, it started ringing.

"Fuck!"

Puck had a choice. Option one; he could dive into the bushes in a very unabashed way and try to find his phone, or Option two; he could walk away and let it ring.

"Fuck!"

He dove.

* * *

The world was ending. For some strange, stupid, idiotic reason, Kurt had allowed his ethics and pride to get in the way of a boy he honestly had a crush on kissing him.

It wasn't working. Kurt just couldn't convince himself to deal with Dick's leftovers. He shouldn't have to deal with Dick's leftovers; he was better than that.

Huffing and flopping over onto his back, Kurt stared at the ceiling of his dorm room and tried to ignore the cacophony of sound that was Buckley and his displaced septum - God that boy could snore!

There was nothing that could make this better. Well, that wasn't strictly true; Jessie Metcalfe knocking down his door and declaring his undying love for him could make things a whole lot better; but that was unlikely to happen so once again Kurt just had to accept that he was on his own.

But he was not getting through the night on his own. This was a deep shame spiral. Like, several pounds of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and Susan Boyle and Josh Groben on an endless repeat sorta thing.

But Kurt, unable to stifle the groan as the realisation hit - his iPod had been smashed to bits. This could be bad.

Now that Blaine had gone off the deep end, and Buckley had still only wheezed out a sum total of a few sentences to him, Kurt knew that his salvation would have to come from outside of Dalton.

Kurt reached for his cellphone and began scrolling through the contacts. The brunette supposed his first port of call really should be Mercedes. He could call the black girl and she was sure to come running with the things that Kurt needed. Add to that the added bonus that it would be wonderful to see her fabulous self and Kurt was almost halfway through dialling before his thumb connected with the cancel button.

There was of course an obvious downside: 'cedes Mom was one of the strictest women on the face of the Earth. Hell, the formidable Mrs Jones made Madonna look like a Stepford Wife and would without doubt kill her daughter for leaving the house at - Kurt checked the clock on his cell screen - 12.43am. The same wrath - from different mothers obviously - would apply to both Tina and Quinn were Kurt to call them.

Brittany would come if Kurt asked, but the blonde might get lost on the way and end up in Cincinnati like that that time she'd gone out to get bubblegum and never came back. Santana would come, but the Latina would no doubt end up extorting Kurt for the privilege of her assistance. Plus Santana was almost guaranteed to end up hooking up with a Dalton jock, and that would just make things so much worse.

Rachel would just end up scolding and then lecturing him if he asked for her help - the sooner that the girl ended up in a cult compound somewhere with blank eyes and monotone voice the better. Or Broadway; Kurt'd settle for Broadway.

Finn, obviously wasn't an option as the Quarterback was not exactly light on his feet and would no doubt wake the entire house trying to sneak out - he'd done so before after all. Plus if caught, Finn was an atrocious liar and would end up telling his Dad.

Running out of names to consider, Kurt continued to scroll through his phone considering and discarding options in split seconds. Kurt wasn't that close to Mike so asking him to bring him moisturiser at 1am would be weird. Artie wouldn't be able to come without first waking his Dad and getting loaded into his SUV to make the trip.

Scrolling to the end of the list, Kurt's eyes landed on one of the most recent addition to his contact list. Pressing the button he placed the phone to his ear, and listened to the ring as he waited for the line to connect.

"Hello?", asked a husky voice, clearly just woken from sleep.

Kurt smiled and tried to put as much cheer into his tone as possible. The soprano was not concerned with waking Buckley; Kurt's room-mate slept with earplugs in to stop his own snoring from waking him. Nothing short of an earthquake was going to wake him at this point.

"Sam, my platinum haired Knight in shining armour. How do you feel about coming to rescue a fair Hummel trapped in an ivory tower?"

Several seconds passed as Kurt could hear creaking and thumping on the other end of the line. The brunette imagined Sam sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.

_'Stop imagining Sam naked in bed... stop it...'_

"Kurt? Is that you? Why are you imaging me naked?"

Kurt blushed to the roots of his hair as he was caught by the sleepy boy muttering to himself under his breath.

"Yes Sam, it's me and I have had a truly horrible day. Would it be possible for you to spring me from this popsicle stand for the evening?"

Thankfully Sam was as laid back as they came and made no further sport of Kurt's earlier mutterings. The brunette was to be disappointed however,

"Sorry 007, you'll have to put the Martini's on ice; my car is at your Dad's shop. Can I spring you another night?"

Kurt's heart sank as he collapsed back against his pillows again in despondency.

"Kurt?"

"Huh - oh, sorry Sam...", mumbled Kurt trying desperately to keep his tone light despite the fact he just wanted to cry, "... don't worry about it Sam. Another time."

"Definitely. Bye Kurt."

"Bye..."

Kurt hung up.

Well, this was completely unacceptable. Sighing, Kurt realised that he had one little option now. Flicking to his contacts, Kurt pulled up the required entry and with taking a deep breath, he hit dial. Hanging with Sam would have been new and interesting - this call had the potential to be suicidal.

_'Desperate times call for desperate measures...'_

Tapping a second number in his phone, Kurt once again waited for the line to connect. This was _so _not a good idea but there was little alternative.

* * *

"Sup...", Puck answered panting and slightly out of breath.

Kurt cringed as he asked the first question that popped into his head,

"Sweet Bette Midler, you are not having sex right now while talking to me on the phone are you?"

"Can you hear any ecstatic female screaming and panting?..." despite his bravado, Puck was slightly hurt that sex was all Kurt thought he was capable of and felt the need to come clean, "... Nah Hummel, I'm just working on my guns. What's up?"

Though Noah couldn't see him Kurt still blushed at the thought of the half-back, most likely stripped to the waist and sweaty.

"Never-mind, this was a poorly conceived notion. I apologize for wasting your time."

Kurt hurriedly pressed the cancel key and the line went dead. Placing his cell down on the pillow beside him, the soprano closed his eyes and sighed. Moving to Dalton was supposed to make things _better_ but all Kurt could think was that he'd have perhaps been better off at McKinley - not safer perhaps, but that might just have been the trade off to at least be happy.

"_'Cause baby you're a firework  
Come on, show 'em what you're worth  
Make 'em go, oh, oh, oh,  
As you shoot across the sky, oh, oh_

_Baby, you're a firework  
Come on, let your colors burst  
Make 'em go, oh, oh, oh  
You're gonna leave 'em falling down, oh, oh, oh..."_

A part of Kurt - a large part - just wanted to let the cell continue to ring and go to voicemail. But he'd opened a can of worms and he'd now have to deal with the consequences. Picking the cell back up again and cursing himself for even thinking that Puck would be the right person in any circumstance to ask for help, Kurt pressed 'answer'.

"You hung up on me."

Puck's tone was level and for all intents and purposes entirely benign, however Kurt could feel the undercurrent of reprimand and couldn't help the involuntary shiver of fear. Too many years had gone by with Kurt being subject to a kindly worded statement and then a dumpster dive for letting his guard down, for the brunette to shake it off in the short time since the half-back had dialled back on the daily torment.

'_Could I get away with hanging up on him again?'_

Though nobody could see him, Kurt shook his head emphatically and tried to form a response that wouldn't result in Puck coming up to Dalton just to kick his ass.

"Uh..."

"Very elephant Hummel..."

"Elephant?", asked Kurt, the strange segue pulling him back into the flow of the conversation and allowing the soprano to ignore his misgivings.

"Yeah, you know, slick?...", said Puck, his voice betraying the fact that the half-back obviously knew he'd slipped up somehow.

"Oh, _eloquent_...", said Kurt unable to keep from displaying the wide smile on his face; there was something endearing about Puck's attempt to use a word of more than two syllables despite his complete and abject failure.

"Yeah that - whatever. You still hung up on me; I should dumpster dive you for that..."

Kurt's throat closed up - he'd thought he'd gotten away from all of that. He'd left McKinley, he'd left his friends and he was supposed to have left his enemies and the various ignominies that they subjected him to.

But now, what was to stop Puck from coming up to Dalton to fulfil his promise?

"Oh for God's sake relax Hummel...", Puck's voice shook Kurt from his panicked wonderings and the brunette quickly realised he was in the middle of a fully-fledged panic attack, "... I'm not going to dumpster dive you."

Kurt squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he tried to control his breathing - it had been years since the soprano had suffered a panic attack; he'd thought he'd gotten over it. Obviously not.

"Hummel... Hummel... _Kurt_!"

"I'm here...", wheezed Kurt as he tried to get his breath back - the soprano sounded like he'd just run a marathon he was so out of breath.

"I'm sorry dude...", muttered Puck sounding genuinely upset at the effect his words had had on the smaller boy, "... I _promise_ never to dumpster dive you ever again if it helps any."

Kurt cleared his throat before he replied,

"Thank you. It does help - more than you could possibly know."

Kurt reached over to his bedside table and took a sip from the glass of water the brunette tended to keep there overnight.

"So you wanna tell me why you called?...", said Puck his voice holding a definite teasing quality, "... or is this just a booty call?"

Kurt coughed and began to splutter; having decided to take a second sip of water at the exact moment Puck said the word 'booty'.

"Don't go dying on me Hummel...", warned Puck though Kurt could tell he was being teased again, "... you never know, I might just take you up on that booty call offer and rock your world..."

"Yeah right...", replied a hoarse sounding Kurt, though he secretly tried to imagine what it would be like if Puck did.

"So - call?"

"Uh yeah - well...", said Kurt, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself - what would he do if Puck said no?, "... I sorta need your help."

Puck chuckled down the line and waited for the soprano to spill - when Kurt didn't continue speaking the jock had to prompt him,

"And?"

"...", said Kurt rushing out his sentence almost before his lips and tongue could properly form the words.

"Why Hummel, you're more like Puckzilla than I first thought...", said Puck his grin audible on the other end of the line, "... but what's in it for me if I do this for you? After all, I'd have to bust into a boarding school in the middle of the night with contraband; that's a big risk..."

The question caught Kurt off guard; what could he offer Puck that the jock would possibly want? Fashion tips? Make-up hints? A critique on his atrocious hairstyle? Not having an answer for the jock, Kurt replied with probably the worst response he could have given,

"Uh... whatever you want?"

Kurt cursed himself the moment the words left his lips. Offering Puck anything he wanted was tantamount to the suicide the brunette had thought would be in the offing when he'd first called the jock.

"Whatever I want... hmmmm...", replied Puck seemingly mulling it over, "... how about one favour, to be cashed in at a future date, no questions asked - a 'Hummel-o-u'..."

Kurt didn't dare think what vile, disgusting thing that Puck would dream up when he decided to cash in his favour but the soprano wanted so badly to forget about everything that had happened that evening that he would give anything. Including this.

"Deal."

"Alright...", said Puck seemingly pleased with the deal they'd struck, "... name your poison, I know a 24-hour liquor store not far from my place."

Kurt hadn't thought of that. He'd decided he wanted to get drunk and try to forget about Blaine and his wandering hands and oh so soft lips, but the soprano hadn't considered what he wanted to drink. He suspected if he asked for Appletini that Puck would hang up on him and that would be disastrous at this stage.

"Tequila."

Puck's whistle clearly suggested that Kurt's answer had surprised him as he replied,

"OK - Cuervo it is... you want me to bring anything else? A movie? Chips?"

Starting to become more comfortable with the situation Kurt replied cheerily,

"Ooh, Cheetos... bring Cheetos... and a movie..."

"Alright fine, I'll see you in an hour..."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**PLEASE REVIEW**


	8. Jailbreak

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Hi guys, this has been a while in the making, but I had to buckle-down, and finish out my degree program. As always love and hugs to the best beta ever JBB.  
**

**Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff**

**Chapter Eight - Jailbreak**

* * *

Puck liked to think of himself as an expert at getting in and out of places he shouldn't be - mainly the bedrooms of married women - but that was beside the point. The point was that for Puck, getting in and out of Dalton undetected would be a breeze in comparison.

Sliding his truck into an empty space in the student parking lot, a good distance from the school building so as not to attract any unwanted attention; Puck looked up at the building. The only lights on seemed to be coming from the north side so that had to be where the dorms were located.

Puck slung his rucksack of supplies over his shoulder as he planned his next move. Most of the doors probably had alarms on them to let the teachers know if kids were sneaking out at night, but everyone gets lazy. So, if the jocks at Dalton were anything like Puckzilla then a few of 'um had to get up early to work out.

And seeing as there was like, no way that a teacher would wake up every morning to let them out, it stood to reason that they'd have an alternative means of leaving without being detected. Looking around the parking lot and satisfying himself that there were no cameras watching him, Puck headed over to the closest door to the gym.

'_Jackpot...'_

The lock had already been taped over.

Puck held his breath as he pulled on the door, half-expecting a secret alarm to start blaring. All that happened however was that the door opened wide with nothing more than a small hiss. Slipping into the darkened hallways, the jock attuned his ears to the silence, his senses on full alert. He was alone, for now.

Puck made his way stealthily through the shadows of the darkened school, peering into each room as he went out of simple curiosity. The jock stopped momentarily and peered through the glass into what must have been Dalton's music room. Either that or their common room came with a bitching Baby Grand in it.

'_For fuck's sake focus Puckerman... you're still breaking and entering remember...'_

Shaking himself, Puck refocused and crept farther down the hallway, pausing as he could hear voices coming from somewhere above him; thankfully they were disappearing into the distance however. Reaching the bottom of what the jock assumed had to be the main staircase, Puck remembered the directions Kurt had text to him.

'_Up two flights, second left, two intersections and then right and third door on the right...'  
_

Following the instructions to the letter, Puck was pleased to find that really, it was too easy to find Hummel's room. Once the jock had found the dorm, partly from using the directions given to him and partly by following the the smell of unwashed teen boy, Puck had just wandered around until he found the right room marked "K. Hummel and B. Krasner"

"Fuck my life...", mumbled Puck as he rolled his eyes.

Reaching out, the half-back knocked softly on the door so as not to alert anyone other than the occupants as to his unauthorised presence in the building.

'_Actually, someone should really speak to them about their security...'_

Puck's knuckles had barely grazed the surface of the door before it swung open quickly to reveal Kurt standing there in his pyjamas. The jock shook his head.

"You have no idea how much you owe me, Hummel...", said the jock roughly pushing his way past the soprano and dumping his heavy bag onto the only free bed in the room, "... like, think of a figure, double it and then add on infinity and you're still not even close..."

"Well, if it is that much of an inconvenience..." started Kurt as he closed the dorm room door again.

The soprano was intending to continue his tirade but was cut off at the knees when he realised what Puck was about to do.

"Puck...no!"

But it was too late.

Puck had taken the glass of water off of Kurt's bedside table and had emptied it in the sleeping Buckley's face.

Like a creature from an old b-movie, the formerly slumbering boy sat up sputtering and cussing.

Squinting, as he was not wearing his contacts, Buckley looked up into Puck's face before a look of recognition crossed his face,

"Shmendrik, what are you doing here?"

"Puck!..", cried Kurt as he ran over and began to scold the half-back, "..be nice to Buckley! You'll send him into an asthma attack."

The mohawked teen raised a single eyebrow at the brunette before smirking in the direction of the suddenly pallid Buckley,

"Asthma? Asthma you say? Why Buckwheat here...", said Puck ruffling the boy's hair vigorously, "... doesn't have asthma, he just does that for sympathy.. Don't you Buckwheat? "

"What do you want, Noah?", replied Buckley in a weary tone that spoke of his imminent capitulation and not even mentioning the obviously disliked nickname.

Puck's playful smile disappeared and a hard edge appeared in his tone of voice,

"Disappear. Now. And maybe, I won't tell Nana that you're conning everyone at your school."

Rolling his eyes, the wet teen grabbed a blanket and stumbling to his feet, shuffled meekly out of the room.

The dorm room door clicked shut a few seconds later, leaving the room in silence as Puck turned back to the bed beside him and started to unpack the contents of his rucksack.

"Wait... you're related?", asked Kurt seemingly unable to process the swift turn of events.

"Yup...", replied the jock as he withdrew a huge bottle of Tequila, "... So just how the Hell did you end up rooming with my idiot cousin?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Puck chuckled seeing Kurt's jaw moving but no sound coming out.

"Shake it off Kurt. So, we doing shots or do you have a mixer?"

Giving up on even trying to comprehend what was going on, Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand as he motioned to the closet with the other.

"There are some cokes in the mini fridge in there."

After Puck had poured the drinks, he pulled a DVD out of his bag and tossed it across to Kurt who had taken a seat at the foot of Buckley's abandoned bed.

"You own Newsies?..", asked Kurt raising an eyebrow and looking at Puck quizzically.

"God, no...", the jock answered quickly - too quickly in all likelihood - but Puck was unwilling to admit that Newsies was one of his favorite movies from his childhood - even water-boarding wouldn't get the half-back to give up that information, "...It's my sister's."

Kurt moved and sat primly at the edge of his bed as he watched Puck move swiftly around the room rearranging furniture. The jock effortlessly shifted beds and cabinets and tossed around bedding, while somehow also managing to avoid all of Kurt's things for damage and targeting only Buckley's. It was actually quite impressive.

Once the room was arranged how Puck wanted it, the half-back carelessly tossed himself onto Kurt's bed behind the smaller boy. Pressing his abs against the soprano's back, Puck reached around Kurt for the cup sitting on the side-table before he took a long drink.

"You don't have personal space issues do you?", asked Kurt wryly and rolling his eyes.

Puck shrugged with one shoulder as he repeated the action with the intent of returning his cup to the side-table.

"You owe me for like, forever, Hummel, so get used to me doing whatever I want; whenever I want to do it."

Kurt rolled his eyes once again as he reached forward and picked up his own cup and sniffed it experimentally, wrinkling his nose.

"Fine... just as long as I give you permission first."

Puck just rolled his eyes and chuckled low in his throat - let Hummel think he'd won - it wouldn't do any harm,

"Whatever, you say dude."

Puck felt the smaller boy tense in front of him the moment he had finished speaking. It didn't take long for the expected retort to come,

"I am not a..."

Puck shook his head and ruffled Kurt's hair with his arm as he reached again for his cup,

"Stow it Kurt...", said the jock taking another sip from his cup, "... You might wear fancy clothes and sing like a girl and shit, but like it or not, you are a dude, and my boy. So just get used to it already."

The jock could see Kurt's reflection in the TV screen and knew that the brunette wasn't pleased but wasn't going to argue anymore,

"I'll see what I can do."

"So...", said Puck gesturing to the brunette to try his drink which remained clasped and forgotten in Kurt's hand, "... you wanna tell me why we're staging a middle of the night booze fest - not that I mind or anything, any excuse y'know?"

"I'm sure you aren't truly interested...", said Kurt keeping his head ducked and staring at the liquid in his cup.

Puck growled as he pinched Kurt on the arm - hard.

"Ow...", moaned Kurt rubbing at his bicep, "... what the Hell was that for?"

Puck took another drink from his cup before he replied - the jock realised he was getting through this first cup awfully quickly - even for him - especially since each cup held a triple shot of tequila.

"I told you already Hummel - y'know for a smart guy you can be a real idiot sometimes...", Puck ignored Kurt's muttered protest but let it go, "... you have Puckzilla on your side now, 24/7. Just get used to it already and spill..."

Kurt paused and seemed to be considering something before he sighed and spoke,

"Well, if you must know I had my fourth kiss today, but I thought that it would be my first real one..."

Puck whooped and made mini-crowd cheering noises from behind the soprano as he asked,

"So... are we celebrating? This is a good thing right?"

Puck knew the answer to the question before Kurt had put voice to it. It was obvious by the sudden slump in the brunette's shoulders and the dead tone to his voice only confirmed it,

"No. No it's definitely not a celebration..."

Puck watched as Kurt took a large gulp from his cup, swallowing thickly as the liquid burned a trail down his throat and made his eyes water,

"What happened man?...", asked Puck, surprising himself at the ferocity of the sudden urge within him to go break some faces for the soprano.

The smaller boy coughed and wiped at his streaming eyes as he finally allowed himself to settle back against Puck properly as he replied. The alcohol might taste absolutely awful, but the soprano couldn't argue with the warm fuzzy feeling and the lack of clarity - clearly the drink had gone straight to his head.

"I realised in the end, that I was better then what was being offered to me...", said Kurt staring at the wall ahead of him before he sighed once again. Nothing had worked out the way the soprano had intended and it made him depressed.

"Cool, I'm all for you finding a dude...", said Puck patting the soprano on the shoulder in commiseration, "... just make sure it's the right dude - and also not Buckley...wait, it wasn't Mensch was it?"

"Who?...", asked Kurt glancing up from his drink, his eyes meeting the surprisingly sympathetic ones of the half-back.

"Buckwheat - Buckley...", said Puck suddenly very afraid that Kurt was perhaps crushing on his cousin - that just introduced a variety of mental images that the half-back could do without.

_'Oh God - naked Buckley... that's just disgusting...'_

Thankfully though, Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust,

"Gross, Puck! No I'd like to think I'm better than that...", Puck gave a sigh of relief which drew a small smile from Kurt before it disappeared once again under his melancholy, "... It...it was my friend - Blaine."

Puck could feel the slight shaking of Kurt's body against his chest and realised that though he was silent, the brunette was clearly upset; possibly even crying. Carefully balancing his cup in his hand, so as not to slosh any on Kurt's pyjamas - a death sentence that even the jock respected as it was clear they were expensive - Puck wrapped his arms around the smaller boy in an attempt to offer comfort.

"He doesn't know what he is missing...", muttered the jock into Kurt's ear feeling the smaller boy shiver, "... wait, you don't think that I was a real kiss?"

Kurt's eyes tracked up to meet Puck's as the jock pouted.

"You are straight Puck. Probably the straightest straight guy I've ever met. It isn't exactly the same thing."

"So that's how you decided to take that."

"Take what?.."

"Never mind."

"Whatever."

Blaine walked slowly down the hall the next morning as he made his way to Kurt's room. His palms were clammy, and he wiped them on his pants as he nodded at one of his classmates heading in the direction of the bathroom at the end of the hall.

'_This is Kurt, Blaine - nothing to be worried about. Of course he will forgive you for your momentary trip into straight boy ethics. He's a sweet guy -'_

"...plus he's hot as hell."

Reaching Kurt's door, the Warbler raised his hand to knock only to stop and turn in shock when a strong arm - a very strong, very muscular arm - clamped onto his shoulder.

"You had better be talking about Buckley, cause if you are messing with Hummel we are gonna have issues."

Blaine cocked an eyebrow as he adjusted his gaze to stare up at the source of the threatening voice - and make no mistake the voice was definitely threatening - there wasn't a hint of civility in the tone whatsoever.

The boy standing there was, Blaine realised, obviously one of Kurt's McKinley friends. Raking his eyes over the muscular form, Blaine immediately dismissed the boy out of hand. Blaine liked to be intellectually stimulated and judging by the mohawk...

'_Which is just so eighties by the way... he looks like a white Mr T...'_

... and the cocky way the taller boy stood there dripping wet in nothing but a small towel it was clear that even if he were gay that he'd be a complete meathead and so not Blaine's type.

Still, the past week hadn't been the best in Blaine's life and the last 24 hours had sort of screwed up his sense of self and had sent the boy off the deep end; it wasn't easy having to face rejection.

Blaine affected his most charming smile as he looked up and met the meathead's gaze; if there was one thing that the Warbler was skilled at it was diplomacy - a few words here and there and the meathead would be eating out of the palm of his hand.

'_And then he can leave and I can speak to Kurt...'_

Focusing on the meathead's words, Blaine bristled internally, though his smile never wavered. Just who the Hell was this lizard brained public school jock talk to him like that?

'_Have to play nice though...'_, Blaine reminded himself. It wouldn't do to get on the wrong side of Kurt's friends before he'd had the chance to get his claws into Kurt himself.

"You must be Finn...", said Blaine trying to but the other teen off his game. The mohawk could only mean one person, and it wasn't Kurt's cute but extremely dopey new brother, "... I'm Blaine, Kurt's good friend here at Dalton."

Blaine's smile widened imperceptibly as he watched the muscular boy's face twitched at the mild insult. Just for good measure; well out of spite really; he added a wink as an afterthought.

"I'm not Finn...", replied Puck sharply and with no small amount of malice , "... I'm Puck - and you need to stay the Hell away from Kurt."

'So not catching anything with sugar then...'

"I'm so sorry; are you one of Kurt's friend's from his old school? Only he's never mentioned you before...", said Blaine adopting as apologetic a tone as he could and revelling in the flash of offence that crossed the taller jock's face at the subtle barb, "... Like I said, we're close and I was coming by to ask him a very important question. So if you'll excuse me?"

Blaine paused and his smile slipped slightly as the muscular jock invaded his personal space to loom over him. The Warbler was well aware in that moment of the physical threat the larger boy posed were he to resort to Neanderthal tactics. "Shut the fuck up..."

Puck was just spoiling for a fight,. The half-back had been in a foul mood ever since the conversation with Kurt the previous night and the thought of turning this smug private school-dick into a mushy paste was extremely appealing. However the jock realised as he watched a bead of sweat appear on this 'Bluto' or whatever's forehead as he silently loomed over him, that he may have another weapon in his arsenal.

_'Damn homo's checking me out...'_

And he was. Puck smirked as he Blaine's eyes dropped momentarily to his muscular chest, tracing the path of a single water droplet down over his collarbone and onwards, until it disappeared beneath his towel. Puck wasn't sure what to make of all of these guys suddenly checking him out left right and center, but he could certainly work with it he guessed.

The jock flexed his pecs, and watched as Blaine's gaze tracked the movement and then he gulped noticeably.

_'This could actually be fun...'_

Leaning closer still, Puck let his towel drop a fraction lower, leaning in so close to the smaller boy so as to allow his chest to lightly brush the front of Blaine's school blazer. Moving to allow his lips to brush the shell of Blaine's ear, Puck went in for the kill,

"Kurt is mine. I fucked him all last night, and I'm going to go back in there right now and let him wrap his lips around my dick again before I leave. Kurt is my boy and only my boy and if anything gets in my way then I will get very very upset. Do we understand each other?"

Puck didn't bother to wait for the other boy's reaction, just stepped around him and into the dorm room; dropping his towel just a split second before the door closed completely.

Red faced and spluttering, Blaine quickly retreated before he could hear any noises coming out of the room. He so didn't need to hear that - plus that meathead was just plain intimidating.

Kurt smacked his lips together and rolled over as he cuddled into the pillow being held against his chest in a death grip. Groaning at the fact that the sun was determined to wake him up at whatever ungodly hour it currently was, Kurt cracked open a single eye and blinked away sleep,

"Morning sunshine!...", said Puck as he loomed over the smaller boy from his standing position beside the bed.

"Aaarghhh", screamed Kurt as he jerked away in terror before raising a hand to his head and wincing.

_'Oh my head... I hope someone got the licence plate of that truck...'_

Kurt groaned and flopped back down onto the soft pillow closing his eyes against the pounding of the blood in his ears. The soprano had drunk far too much alcohol the night before and now paying the price for it. Why did he think that was a good idea again? Oh that was right - Blaine... stupid Warbler and his stupid come-on...

"Sorry I fell asleep during the movie last night..."

Kurt jumped at the voice so close to his ear and with all the coordination of a newborn fawn, managed to pull himself back upright and look around the room. The brunette took in the sight of Puck leaning against the window sill sporting a laconic grin. The half-back it seemed, had already showered and changed clothes and his overnight bag was sitting out on the small table under the window which Kurt used as a hybrid study station and vanity table.

Kurt rubbed his eyes and shook off the last vestiges of sleep as he asked,

"What, wait...", the brunette rubbed his eyes in disbelief as Puck turned to the dresser and began opening drawers and stuffing the contents into his holdall, "... are you stealing my stuff?"

Puck stopped midway through unceremoniously stuffing a very expensive Donna Karen shirt into the bag on the table causing Kurt to wince in sympathy - that crease would likely never come out,

"Yep, I'm stealing your sfuff and I'm stealing you too...", said the larger boy aiming a grin at the soprano, "... I got Buckbeak to file some paperwork on your behalf this morning - you are officially getting a three day weekend dude. I'm taking you home today."

Kurt blinked slowly as his brain, still struggling against his hangover, tried to process what the jock had just said. A few seconds passed before the soprano reached an explanation - that it made no sense.

He had to be dreaming right? After all, there was just no way that Puck would do that for him. It wasn't right anyway, Kurt was supposed to be able to take care of himself; he wasn't a child anymore.

"Puck, you don't have to..."

"...Toss you over my shoulder and carry you out because you are coming of your own free will?...", cut in the jock as he smirked at the pile of Kurt's underwear in his hand before he stuffed them into the holdall - who'd have thought the soprano liked lace, "... Thanks dude, I appreciate it."

Puck grinned as Kurt paused, his jaw flapping in the wind for a second before he regained his wits and tried again to reason with the all too not hung-over jock. Puck was annoying when he was chipper,

"But, I have classes...", whined the brunette while imagining the Hell that awaited him later that day - Dr Dimples and another couple of hours of staring at the chalkboard in confusion.

"That you have been excused from...", replied Puck smoothly zipping the bag up with a flourish.

"And not to mention my Dad will be upset...", argued Kurt, scrambling out of bed to stand with his hands on his hips.

Kurt desperately wanted to go with Puck...

_'Oh God that's just weird...'_, thought the soprano,

... but he at least had to go through the motions.

"Hummel...", said Puck scowling and throwing the bag over his shoulder with ease, "... why are you talking like you have a choice?"

Kurt huffed and grumbled as he padded over to the small vanity table in the corner and began to carefully pack up his cosmetics,

"...Fine, but remember - this is only happening because I am giving you permission...", said the brunette as he tried to hide the look of happiness on his face at the thought of a day away from Dalton.

"Whatever you say milady...", quipped the jock bowing to the smaller boy with an exaggerated flourish.

Kurt scowled as he quickly dressed, Puck had refused to allow him the luxury of showering claiming that there wasn't time. Judging from the damp towel left discarded on the floor, the half-back had no qualms about ensuring he showered though.

Brushing his fringe into place, Kurt slipped on his hat to complete his outfit - a rather fetching red and black ensemble that he was rather proud of - and before they finally left the dorm room Puck asked,

"So, will any of these Dalton guys know about me?"

Kurt took up a position walking alongside the taller boy as the headed towards the stairs at the end of the corridor,

"Oh, well, some of the Warblers might I guess and I suppose I've mentioned you to Blaine, but I think we can sneak out without too much trouble."

"Cool..." said Puck smirking as the pair descended the deserted staircase and headed towards the main entrance.

As the heavy oak door swung shut behind them, both boys breathed deeply of the crisp early morning air. Making sure the bag on his shoulder was secure, Puck swung an arm over Kurt's shoulder as the pair walked out. Neither was aware of the figure of Blaine standing in a first floor window watching in silence.

'_Some people just had no respect for what she was trying to do for them.'_

Santana stalked down the hallway towards the Choir Room unseeing of how her annoyed scowl was causing the crowds to part in front of her like the Red Sea. Here she was, trying hard to make them all lifelong friends - a nobler action the Latina could not imagine - and Boy Asian had to go and burst out crying halfway through Algebra third period. It was infuriating.

'_Abs of a Greek God, emotional control of a toddler...'_

Sometimes it was hard for Santana to remember why she wanted to keep these losers around. As the Latina strode into the music room through the open doorway, she knew that she was going to have to bring her A game if she wanted to rescue the plan. There had been something in the air recently; an unresolved tension that did not bode well for the future - and Santana did not like surprises, well unless they involved Brittany and chocolate spread anyway.

Exactly as Santana had hoped, the jocks at the school were starting to feel the pain of being denied access to their girlfriends. Given enough time, the Latina could imagine their cocks turning black and falling off from lack of use. It would only be a matter of time before Santana had opportunity to put the final step of her plan into motion.

The cheerio sent a conspiratorial smirk Tina's way, before she sat down in her usual seat on the upper level. Santana watched with interest as Mercedes sat beside Mike, with her hand on the Asian boy's knee as they spoke in hushed tones, presumably about they songs for the next day. Also it was clear from Mike's body language that he was still upset and that the black girl was doing what she could to offer the boy silent comfort. The whole Finchel thing might have been an abject disaster, but at least Mikecedes looked like it was going to be a big check in the win column.

Santana turned her attention back to her unwanted partner in crime, as she saw Asian Vampire Princess was already sitting beside Artie and telling him all about why she couldn't stay with Mike any longer. The Latina had to give the girl props; she was almost as good at manipulation as Santana was herself - of course, Santana considered Tina's weakness to be her conscience; caring about others just held you back.

Santana studied the expression on his Artie's face, searching for clues on his emotional state. From what she could see, Wheels was eating up everything Tina was spoon feeding him. It wouldn't be long before they were back together again. Check and Mate.

Some things are like signs from God though. Mr Schue walked into the classroom sans sweater vest. This was not going to bode well. The four horsemen must be somewhere close by.

Santana tuned the teacher out when he started talking about that week's assignment and so she was too busy buffing her nails to notice what had caused Finn and Rachel to suddenly start yelling at each other - again. This was not a part of the plan and was really getting kinda old.

"Finn, I'm sorry...", said Rachel, her voice breaking slightly with emotion just bubbling under the surface.

"Rachel I have a song for you OK?...", replied the Quarterback, something in his tone of voice causing the Latina to look up and pay attention, "... Just listen. This is from that big folder of music you made me read and stuff, so remember that."

Santana watched implacably as Finn crossed to stand in front of the piano and with a nod to Brad and the band the music started.

"_I don't wanna hurt you  
'Cause I don't think it's a virtue  
But you and I have come to our end  
Believe me when I tell you that  
I never wanna see you again"_

All eyes were wide with shock as people started to realise what exactly the quarterback was singing. Mercedes leaned forward to put a hand on Rachel's shoulder as the girl started to shrink in on herself and leant forward so that her hair would hide her face.

"_And please can you stop calling  
'Cause it's getting really boring  
And I've told you I don't want to be friends  
Believe me when I tell you that  
I never wanna see you again_

_How on earth could I be any more obvious?  
It never really did and now it's never  
Gonna happen with the two of us"_

Tina gasped and threw up her hand over her mouth as she watched, her heart aching for the girl sitting a couple of seats down from her. Sam meanwhile grimaced before he hid his face in his hands and scrubbed at his eyes. Quinn simply watched on in horrified fascination, like a rubbernecker at a car wreck unable to tear their eyes away.

"_I don't understand what it is that you're chasing after  
But it makes me really sad to hear  
You sound so desperate, it just makes it harder  
I can see how it's confusing  
It could be considered using_

_When I call you up straight out of the blue  
But I don't understand what else  
A guy in my position's to d-..."_

"Finn!"

The music continued for a few seconds before Brad caught on that Finn had stopped singing and the notes became disjointed before dying away.

Mr Schue stood beside the piano, an angry expression on his face as he stared down the teen,

"This song is in no way appropriate. Apologise right now to Rachel. We are a team and you do not treat your teammates like that."

_'Oh it's on Frankenteen...'_

Santana scowled as the last strains of music died away. She was going to go for his balls now - Finn Hudson would soon be the Glee Club's resident Castrato. Screw Tina's warnings about blowing the plan - the Latina was intent on causing some serious bodily harm.

Santana didn't have the chance though to put her murderous thoughts into action however as Rachel stood calmly and approached the Quarterback. The Latina watched in rapt fascination as Finn's eyes widened momentarily before Rachel's hand connected solidly with the left side of his face, sending the larger boy stumbling backwards. In a move that the Latina was actually envious of, Rachel then turned without a word and sat herself down again to wait for Mr Schue to take up the lesson. The girl was a damn good actress, that was for sure. Though Santana could see deep within Rachel's eyes, the pain that Finn had callously inflicted, to look at the girl you would have thought she was completely unaffected.

Finn had the gall to look shocked as he raised a hand to his reddening cheek. The Quarterback's eyes scanned the gleeks seeking some kind of affirmation and finding none, before he turned and stalked angrily out of the room. The door slammed shut behind the jock leaving behind an echoing silence broken only by the sound of a bewildered Brad softly closing the lid on the piano and beating a hasty retreat. Just as the group took a sharp intake of breath and sound returned, Quinn stood and made to go after Finn, leaving Sam sitting all alone.

Fuck it, figured Santana. If Finn insisted on being a complete asshole and fucking things up, then the plan didn't need him and couldn't afford to carry him. Santana would just have to think of something else. Getting to her feet, the Latina used the group's explosion of outrage on behalf of the now quietly sobbing Rachel to slip quietly from the room.

It was time to move the plan forward.

Santana checked her cell out of habit as she stopped by her locker. In times gone by she'd have had at least one, maybe more messages from Brittany, sent to her during Glee. Things like, 'What is that sweater Mr Schue is wearing and where can I find one for my cat?' or 'Why does Mike wear baggy shirts when he has those abs?' to 'If I eat a tub of ice cream and get brain freeze, will I stop thinking?'

Now. There was nothing.

Santana sighed as she slipped her cell back into her jacket pocket. Nowadays the Latina was lucky if she received a text a day from Brittany. It was just wrong. Britt was supposed to be with her, not Artie. But then she'd been so happy lately. Maybe what she was doing was wrong. Maybe Britt was better off -

No.

Brittany was so much better than Artie. She deserved to be with Santana.

'_I deserve to be with her...'_

Santana opened her locker and grabbed the DVD that she had conned the AV geeks into making using the film clips that Finn had gotten her - before Finn became public asshole number one of course. The Latina fixed her hair in the mirror on the inside of her locker door, before she turned to head toward Coach Beiste's office. The Cheerio only had time to glare at a couple of Freshmen before she turned the corner to be confronted by half of the starters of the football team blocking her way.

"Lopez,"

Santana stopped in the hallway and crossed her arms defensively over her chest as she stared down the owner of the voice,

"Black..."

Thom Black, a running back that Santana had blown a few times in the janitor's closet detached from the group and stepped forward clearly having been nominated as spokesman.

"We want to talk to you...", said the jock gesturing to the group behind him who were all nodding in agreement - to a man, not one of them looked pleased.

_'Gee I wonder why...'_, thought Santana viciously.

"... we want to know, what the hell is up with this blue ball ban? And we want to know what it is you want us to do so we can get laid in this town again."

Santana smirked as Thom's voice cracked towards the end of his demand, a clear indication of how pent up the jock must have been. Thom Black was dating one of the prettier Cheerios the Latina recalled, one of the looser, prettier Cheerios - it was no wonder that he was stressing out.

Santana let her crimson lips expose a little teeth as she knew she was still in the position of power despite the group of agitated teens in front of her. Plus that was how Thom liked it, with a little teeth.

"Well?", prompted the jock impatiently before a warning glare from Santana had him averting his eyes and looking for all the world like a scolded puppy.

"Lady Face...", said the Latina before noting the puzzled looks on the assembled faces, "... Porcelain. Jazz hands, y'know _Dorothy's _friend?..."

Santana rolled her eyes at the jocks who were clearly straining the solitary braincell that they had to timeshare between them,

"Oh for the love of...", grumbled the Cheerio throwing her hands into the air, "... Kurt "I-love-cock-long-time" Hummel."

Several seconds passed as the jocks attempted to absorb the statement before Thom spoke up,

"Wait...", the jock scratched his jaw as he shook his head in disbelief, "... you're... you want us to find someone willing to get his dick wet in Hummel before we get laid? What's wrong Satan - was Rentboys-R-Us out of stock or something?"

The jock turned to the group behind him and exchanged a couple of high fives as the guffawing reverberated against the walls.

"You forget I know you Thom - I know about your preferences... though this is a strange way to come out...", said Santana watching with amusement as the other jocks turned concerned stares in the direction of their friend who turned red and ducked his head.

"I'm not a homo...", insisted Thom clearing his throat before levelling an ineffectual glare at the crowing Santana, "... really guys - I'm not..."

Santana smirked and quirked an eyebrow enjoying watching the Running Back squirm,

"Sure Thom, keep telling yourself that, hey try on some ruby slippers and maybe if you wish hard enough...", said Santana burying the hatchet even deeper into Thom's back, "... But anyway getting back on track - all we girls want is for it to be safe enough for Kurt to come back to McKinley. As long as Hummel is safe then you can get all of the pussy - or whatever floats your individual boats - that you want. Now, do we have a deal?"

"So what do we actually have to do?...", asked one of the other jocks speaking up when it was clear Thom was too tongue tied to do so.

"Nothing major. I'm not asking you to be friends with him... just, if you see or hear anyone talking shit about him, or about to slushie him, or to even fire a spitball at him in class, you tell them to stop - or you _make _them stop. Clear?"

The jocks all gathered into a huddle as they discussed the proposal in hushed tones, Santana meanwhile fished out a nail file and began to buff her cuticles.

A clearing throat drew the girls attention as the same jock who had spoken up previously stepped forward, replacing Thom who the group had clearly lost faith in.

"Deal."

"Good..." replied Santana as she pushed through the group and walked away "... one down and one to go."

Shannon Beiste looked up slightly surprised when Santana Lopez walked into her office without knocking. She was one of Will's kids, but the girl usually brought trouble to her own players when she put her mind to it.

The Coach set down her just delivered copy of Bodybuilders Monthly and took a sip from her protein shake as she waited for the girl to say something. When Santana made no move to speak, Coach Beiste sighed and asked,

"What can I do for you, Miss Lopez?"

"I want you to give the Cheerios their funding back."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. You cheer for us Miss Lopez, not the other way round...", pointed out the Coach with a sigh - she'd been through the same argument countless times with Coach Sylvester.

"No!..", spat Santana, confused by the growing strength of emotion inside her as she railed at the Coach, "... we are competition athletes that have won more championships then any other sport at this school. We train harder then you. We achieve more than you. And we would never turn on one of our own. Cheerios protect their own."

"My boys get along fine Miss Lopez...", said the Coach as she stood and crossed to her office door intent upon showing the girl out, "... but thank you for your concern."

"Oh please...", scoffed Santana rolling her eyes as she stalked over to the small TV in the office and popped the DVD into the player. The Latina hit the play button before turning to face the Coach, her hands on her hips in challenge to the larger woman.

The screen flashed into life as an image resolved of the stadium, clearly mid-game with the bleachers packed to bursting with spectators as Santana took up a commentary.

"That right there is Kurt Hummel...", said Santana pointing to the short and slender figure standing amongst the comparative giants of the football team, "... he was responsible, thanks to his kicking, for the only damn game the Titans won last year, and the team still kicked his ass afterwards."

Santana was pleased to see a fire of outrage ignite in the Coach's eyes - yes the incident had been prior to her tenure as Coach and so she technically had no control over the team's actions. However she was still an educator and her first instinct was to protect her students - all of her students.

"Go on...", said the Coach tightly the cup of protein shake in her hand creaking ominously.

"Do you want to know why he was singled out? For daring to be different. For being gay Coach," she continued wiping tears out of her eyes. The outrage on Kurt's behalf was getting out of control, but Santana found she just couldn't reign it in.

Collecting herself, the Latina pressed on,

"... And - and you didn't even talk to him. Didn't ask why the best athlete on the team last year was gone. That's why the Cheerios should get their funding back. We would never do that to anyone on our team regardless of personal feelings... ", she spat with venom, "... so give the Cheerios our damn money back, or step up and be a team."

Santana paused in her rant, her breathing heavy, her eyes wild and passionate before her implacable mask fell back into place.

"I'm so done with this."

The Cheerio flipped her ponytail over her should and stalked from the room leaving behind a stunned teacher and a pool of protein shake on the floor.

* * *

**A/N: PLEASE REVIEW**


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